I Am SpiderMan: Seeing Green
by Brent Holcombe
Summary: NOT original SpiderMan. A fifteen year old boy, by chance, is exposed to a mysterious chemical. Will life ever be the same for him? FINISHED! R&R please .
1. In The Beginning

"There," a raspy voice screeched over the background noise around him. "Take Kelly Mill Road towards Cumming. Once there call and we will supply you with further instructions."

A skinny, pale man with jet black hair nodded to the figure behind the shadow, then looked down at the map on the table in front of the two of them. "What if I run into a problem?"

"The GPS will track you the whole way. If you stay in one location for too long, we'll be there in no time. The substance must make it to the target location." This voice came from a man in a lab coat. He was walking down a flight of stairs behind the pale man. The new figure was a bit older, with beady glasses shielding matching beady eyes. He stroked his long, gray beard as he approached the table. "We are counting on you, son. I will be leaving this location tonight to head back to Atlanta. If anything happens," he looked to the man behind the shadows, "I want to be notified immediately."

Both of the other men nodded. The one in the shadows disappeared deeper into the facility while the bearded man traveled back up the stairs, leaving the pale man at the table alone. 'Do this, do that,' he thought. 'What's so important about this tanker, anyway?'

...

'This will be looked up upon by my people,' the man thought nervously. 'And I will survive, so unlike a martyr I can relish in the fame that will come of my deed.' He looked down into his coat, pulling the gun from the pocket and examining it. His hands were shaking lightly. He was not entirely sure about this.

'Don't fall out now, you must do this. Allah is watching you.'

He stood at the entrance of a small church. The lights outside had given him the ability to make sure the gun was loaded inside his coat. Now only one thing stood in his way; his own shaking.

The man was a Muslim radical. He had been dispatched from a camp to do a bit of research on America, but they did not tell him he'd be in the middle of a Christian culture. Well, the culture itself wasn't Christian, but there sure were a lot of Christian churches in the area. Too many for his taste, actually. That is why his grand idea to get praise from his superiors would work. He'd hit them in the heart. The youth. Yes, the youth. They would go first. Their faith was not well rooted, surely they would falter. Maybe the gun wouldn't even be used this night. Maybe.

...

Brent Holcombe, teen idol. No, not teen idol, but one really cool guy. Alright, so maybe not that either, but he was in a very comfortable place that made him feel this way. He loved the youth group. What better way to learn about God and have fun at the same time? None. Brent sat on the first row of chairs in the fellowship hall of his church, listening intently to the youth pastor's sermon. He was a good guy, but shy. This hindered his social skills a lot, but it didn't matter to him. Once a loner, always a loner, right? Sure he had friends, but he was most comfortable sitting in his room alone. Alone. Sad, but the truth.

...

"Don't even start with me, you've owed me the money for a month now!" the blonde girl screamed. Curtis shrugged at her, acting like he couldn't hear her over the music. The party had been kicking up until then, and now Elena had ruined it for him.

"I can't hear you!" he screamed at her. "Pass me the beer next to you, will ya?"

Elena picked up an opened beer can and hurled it at Curtis, then jumped up at him. "I'll strangle you right here I swear!" she screamed. "Do you want to die at sixteen?"

Sirens sounded in the distance, but no one could hear them.

"Do you want to get your fat ass off me?" Curtis retorted as he thrust his arms forward and forced Elena off him. "Lose some weight chubby!"

She wasn't very fat, but the insult was legit enough he supposed.

The sirens drew closer.

"Don't you dare do that again!" Elena screamed as she stood up and landed a kick on Curtis' forehead. He fell back to the floor, finding it hard to do much in his drunken state. Lucky for him, she was drunk too. Maybe he still had a chance.

The music cut out. "The pigs are here!" a guy by the radio screamed. In an instant there was a sudden explosion of chaos. Curtis stood to his feet in time to see Elena disappear out a window. By the time he had regained himself five others had done the same. With a bit of stumble in his movement he jolted to the window as well. He would get away. He had to. He couldn't go to jail. He just couldn't.

...

"We must use our gifts, our talents, and even our curses the best we can," the youth pastor said. Brent absorbed it all. Every single bit of the message could be read like a book in his mind. To further the kingdom of God all tools given had to be used. Self sacrifice could be asked of them. Could they take the challenge?

Yes. Brent thought he could. How hard could it be? He had nothing anyway. Being fifteen didn't require too many extensive responsibilities.

...

"Please have a seat, sir." The man had entered the church, found the location of where the youth were, and was stepping in with his gun pointed at the youth pastor. He made note of how they met in the kitchen area. He wondered if they all did this, but quickly threw the thought out temporarily so that he could focus on his lines. He had recited them right before entering, so they'd better be perfect.

"I am here because that man lies to you. You must not believe his lies. He is feeding you death, but I can feed you life. Allah has sent me to intervene in this disgusting activity and give you the chance to accept him. If you do not accept him, you must die."

Perfect. He felt good about it. No one else would, but all that mattered to him was that he was satisfied. He waited for a response, but none came.

"Do not push my patience," he said as he waved the gun around at the group of young people sitting in front of him. He slowly moved to the front of their room. "If no one speaks up, you will all die."

Silence. Were they that stupid? How could they not accept the truth he brought them? Why would the die for this lie? He searched the room for someone, anyone, he could use to prove his point. Right in front of him sat a rather hefty young man. Good. Perfect. Fat was good. He was not fit for Allah's army anyway. He would be the example, yes him. The man brought the gun up and pointed it at the boy's head. "Goodbye, heathen."

...

Who did this guy think he was? Who comes to a church with a gun and threatens people with it? Idiots, that's who. Brent was convinced that this guy was a total moron. He had threatened Sonny, the youth pastor, a mentor in Brent's life that he did not know what he'd do without. Brent followed the man's movements closely.

The gun came up to his friend, Will's, head. No. Not Will. Brent felt himself inclined to act, but what was he going to do against a gun? He had to do something, or he'd lose a good friend. Sacrifice. He could do it.

"Goodbye, heathen." No. Brent acted. He leapt from his seat and snatched up the man's arm, in particularly the one holding the gun. The Middle Eastern man struggled to fight him off, but Brent was determined. He got a good grip on the man's bicep with one hand, then brought the other down and under the man's wist. With a quick application of force Brent was able to snap the two bones between the elbow and wrist in the man's arm. He screamed in pain and dropped the gun to the floor as he stumbled back to hold his arm.

...

Blast him! Allah would bring judgment against this one who defied my plan!

The man was in a lot of pain, and no longer had his weapon. How was he not ready for that? Shouldn't he have been able to take the boy without a fuss? He had come at him too fast, that was the problem. Now all that mattered was making a clean escape.

The man bolted towards where he had come, realizing the one who had attacked him was following. Blast him.

The man made it through the door and made a run for the yard in front of the church, seeing as he crossed the road that a tanker was coming. Maybe the boy would run out in front of it. Yes, Allah was good indeed. Justice would be served.

...

Curtis ran like nothing else. Did adrenaline have an alcohol negating property? He was sure of it, because it seemed that since the cops were on his tail he was able to interpret what was going on around him. He wasn't complaining at all.

A road was coming up ahead. Curtis was out of breath, but had to make it to the field beyond the road. He could hide there for a while, then when everything was calmed down he could get home. That was the goal, at least.

"What the hell?" he asked himself out loud as he realized the road was busy. "I have to dodge all this traffic? Freaking terrific." He did a prep stretch, then bolted without looking. Not knowing what would hit you was better than knowing, he figured. That and he knew he'd chicken out if he looked. Horns blared as he took his first couple of steps, realizing this highway had four lanes. Great. Upon his second step he heard tires squeal and metal grind with metal.

'Don't look,' he told himself as he kept across. He heard the sound of a liquid rushing. 'Damn, look.'

Coming at him was a wall of clear liquid pouring from a tanker that had turned over right beside him and busted. Curtis hoped it wasn't gasoline. Gasoline was bad, he knew that. The liquid hit him, washed him right off his feet, then threw him to the ground. After the force of the oncoming liquid was gone he stood again and took off towards the field as if nothing happened.

'I have to make it, just have to,' he thought as he felt himself weaken. What had that been? He stumbled from his lack of energy all of a sudden and fell into a clumsy roll. He landed on his back, looking up at the stars. 'I don't feel so hot.'

His skin began to burn. Then everything else from the outside in. He uttered a light scream, but was quickly silenced when he was blinded by a green light, then blacked out quickly after.

...

The pale man yawned as he drove up Kelly Mill Road. He would need to call in soon. How long was this road? Surely he was almost to the end. It had been ten minutes. This was a back road. It was small on the map. That's it, he was calling in. He took a quick glance at the road in front of him, then looked down to fumble around for the phone.

"Got it," he said as he sat it in his lap and looked back up. A man had just cleared the road in front of him, but a boy was just coming out. The pale man slammed the brakes and turned the wheel out of impulse, completely forgetting that he was driving a huge truck with a tanker on the back. "They're going to kill me," he muttered as he felt the tank on the back swinging around and the truck flipping.

...

'I have to make sure he does not get away,' Brent thought as he bolted through the church's front doors. He was almost to the street. Great. Brent had to pick up the pace if he was going to catch him. He threw one leg in front of the other as fast as he could manage. He took his first step into the road to the sound of wailing brakes. He turned to face the sound, and quickly realized that his was not the best idea he had ever had.

He faced an eighteen wheeler turning over not twenty feet beside him. He was going too fast to stop, but he would not have to. The tank slammed against the concrete, burst open, and spewed its contents onto the road. It hit Brent with a large amount of force. That force combined with his momentum sent him at an angle through the flowing blue liquid until the liquid could not carry him any more. He came to rest by the curb on the other side of the road a little farther down than he had started.

He blinked, stunned he wasn't dead. He had lived. Great. No, wonderful. He had cheated death! Wait, he was going to be in trouble, wasn't he? What was tha...

Burning sensations began to engulf every part of his body that the liquid had made contact with; his face, his head, his torso, his arms, legs, throat, nose, stomach, everywhere. Stomach? Ouch, he must have swallowed some. It didn't matter now. Now he _wished _he had died. He screamed in pain as the burning intensified. He tried so hard to fight off the pain, gave up so much of his will to that one thing. After a moment of struggle he was overtaken and, from pure pain and exhaustion, he blacked out.


	2. On The Run

Ring ring. Ring ring. 'Please don't be what I think it is,' Dr. Lowan thought as he reached for the cell phone sitting in a cup holder in his car. He hadn't been on the road for thirty minutes and already he was being called. His instructions were clear, unless some information got lost somewhere. He blinked his beady eyes when he saw the number. It was the base of operations. What could they want?

He slowly answered, swallowing. He knew what was about to be said. "Hello?"

"Sir, we've had a, umm, well an accident." The voice wavered. It was that of the man he had left in charge. The one from the shadow. Lowan knew it wasn't a good idea to put him in charge.

"Are you going to tell me what it was or waste both our time?" Lowan retorted. He didn't mean to seem so harsh, he was usually a very nice and gentle man, but the gloomy thought of a problem with the most important project he had ever taken put him into a deep regret.

"Sir, a couple of the trucks have had accidents."

"Two?" Lowan was surprised. It was worse than he'd thought. One is bad enough, but two?

"No sir, four actually."

What! Four? He held in the urge to shout. "What is the status?"

"Two crashed in the Cumming area, the others near Gainseville. Casualty numbers are not known, but one has been confirmed sir."

Lowan pulled over to the side of the busy Georgia 400, not needing to drive in his current state of mind. "Do you know where this casualty is now?" he asked. Not another exposed. Please no. Too much to deal with already. As if one running loose wasn't enough.

"The paramedics got there before we did. He is at the local hospital in Cumming, Northside I believe it's called."

Lowan almost lost it. "You mean an ambulance got to the wreck site before we did! Are you down there playing charades? This could have been avoided!"

"I apologize sir, we were not informed of the accident and the GPS tracking system did not alert us until it was too late. The location was simply too close to the hospital for us to make a better attempt at getting to it."

The excuse was not legitimate, but Lowan did not have the time to argue any longer. "Give me the number to the hospital, and get one of our bio specialists out there immediately. We must make sure the casualty is not having a negative reaction, and if they are get them out of there. We cannot have questions being raised."

...

The doctor was definitely confused. From the description of what happened, the mentioning of HAZMAT, and a blend of FBI on the scene, the truck was carrying something potent. He had pulled blood from the young man expecting it to be filled with something he could not explain, but he found the outcome was even more unexplainable; there was nothing. The boy was in a minor coma after being doused in an unidentified liquid and he had nothing to work with. No traces of it were found anywhere on him or in his blood. Had he simply absorbed it?

"Dr. Lee, there's a phone call for you on line four," a nurse said as she rushed by the lab he was in.

"Thank you," he said, not expecting her to hear him. He sighed as he took off the rubber gloves and reached for a nearby phone hanging on the wall. "Hello?"

"Dr. Lee, this is Dr. Lowan, how are you this evening?"

Doctor who? Lee didn't know this man. "Fine thanks, but who might I ask this is?"

"I'm glad you asked," Lowan said. "I am with the FBI. We have a special doctor coming to your location this minute, he could already be there. He is there to do a check on the patient who was admitted not long ago after suffering through an intense truck turnover. My guy is going to need full access to your resources, and I'm sure I don't need to mention that this needs to be kept on the DL."

Who did this guy think he was? "Is this some sort of joke? Brent is my patient. I'm sure we can take care of him."

"I'm sure you can't." Click. The guy hung up on Lee! What was going on?

"Dr. Lee, the patient in room five is awake," the same nurse said as she passed the doorway going the opposite direction from before. Room five, who was that? Of course, Brent. Lee immediately made a b-line out of the lab and towards the room.

...

Black. Darkness. It didn't matter, it all meant the same, and it was what Curtis saw. He felt... weight on his back. The ground on it. He was on his back. Why was everything black? Eyes moron, open your eyes. Yes, there, a starry sky.

Curtis was just regaining consciousness. What had happened? He start lifting his upper body up to sit up when he realized he didn't have a shirt. Wait, he didn't have pants either. Oh no, he was naked. He looked down, seeing the ground he had been laying on was dirt while the rest was grass. Peculiar. Where were his clothes? This couldn't be Elena, she would not have resisted waking him up and having her way with him. He was a stud, who wouldn't? No one, but that was beside the point. Had he been hazed? Had the cop raid been a setup? Damn them to hell. Yes, let them burn.

No wait, there was something else. His sense of hearing slowly came into focus to reveal the sound of cars passing by in the distance. He gazed upon the road that was some five hundred feet to his left side. Something happened there. He focused in on an overturned truck. Wait, he remembered that. No way, he was alive. Naked yes, but breathing. He had to get away. He couldn't go to jail, and this little escapade would surely save him the front row seat to the good old county rape house. Ouch, the thought hurt his rear. Just the thought. The action must be the worst thing to endure. Not skinny him. No, he wouldn't go there. He would not be some fat man's bitch for however long he'd be locked away. He was on top of the food chain now, right? Yes, no one on the bus or at school or anywhere messed with him. He could not jeopardize his superiority. He had to run, naked or not.

He stood to his feet, sucked up the fact that he was about to go hauling across this field barefooted, and took off. No thinking, just running. He ran his soul out, knowing it was the only way he'd survive, the only way he'd make it. Making it was all that mattered.

What was that? He looked at the ground in front of him, seeing that it was illuminated. No, someone had spotted him. Why was it green? No matter, he must escape. He diverted his direction towards the woods, a place he was hoping to avoid due to his feet, but saw that the light was still in front of him. Steadfast light. Screw the person following him. Maybe they'd trip and die.

Curtis tripped three steps into the woods on a root. Irony maybe. He rolled down a slope and came to a stop in a creek at the end of the slope. He made a splash, but once he was completely stopped he just laid there. Useless attempt, the light was still on him. How had they followed him so well, with the fall and all?

Something slid by the side of his face, followed by another something, and another. What was going on? He slowly lifted himself up and looked down to see dead minnows floating in the water. Why were so many dead? He was going mad. That was it, the alcohol was playing tricks with him.

No. The green light... it was coming from _him._ No way. He looked down at his body, seeing that somehow he was glowing green. Why? How? He looked down at the dead fish. Was it radiation? Why wasn't he dead? Radiation was bad, right? He looked up the hill he had just fallen down. No one. He had to get home, he had to. Something weird was going on, but he wanted to be home. Home was safe. He'd figure it out there. Yes, that was the best he could do. He only had one question; how was he going to avoid melting and killing everything in his path?

...

"How are you feeling?" the doctor asked Brent.

'What do you think,' Brent thought. 'I'm in a freaking hospital, I'm fantastic. Thanks.' It was tempting, but he held it in. He took a second to fully realize his condition inside and out. He had only been conscious for a minute or two, so he hadn't really paid attention. Arms moved, legs were fine. Shoulders and neck checked out. Stomach was empty, but other wise fine. He was fine. "I feel alright," he finally said with confidence. It was a good thing for him to say. He had almost died. He had blacked out. He had never blacked out before. He'd have thought he'd be in some type of pain, but there was nothing.

"My name is Dr. Lee," the doctor explained to Brent. "I've been monitoring you since you came in. You vitals have all remained pretty consistent, which is a good sign. Can you stand?"

Brent slid to the side of his hospital bed, realizing then that he was in one of the hospital gowns. How pleasant. He was in an oversized dress. Stupendous. He placed his feet on the ground and took a couple of steps. "Everything checks out, doc."

Dr. Lee nodded. "I'll be back in a few minutes with your test results. I see no reason in keeping you here if everything on them checks out." He turned and walked out of the room.

'That would be good,' Brent thought. 'Good indeed.'

...

The truth was Dr. Lee didn't want Brent there if there was going to be any problems with the FBI. He checked out fine, but the Feds seemed to like to involve themselves in things and make matters worse. He was hoping he could get Brent checked out long before any showed up.

He was too late. He walked into the lab to find another man in a doctor's coat standing over his equipment. "Excuse me, you are not supposed to be here." Dr. Lee confronted the figure, but did not know what to do next.

"I'm with the FBI," the figure said without bothering to turn around. "I was called in to investigate the patient exposed to an unknown substance during a truck accident. Are these the blood samples?"

"Yes," Dr. Lee answered. "But I must ensure you that we have every capability of taking care of _all_ of our patients."

"These tests show nothing out of the ordinary, are you sure this is the right blood sample?"

How dare the newcomer question Lee. "Those are his samples."

"Where is the patient?"

This guy was asking too many questions. Lee had to think fast. He had to get the child out, now. "He's down in room nine," he lied. Yes, that would buy him time. The FBI doctor left the room. Dr. Lee followed, making his way for Brent's room.

"Good news Brent," he said as he entered. "You've check out clean. You're going home now. If you have any other issues please call me, I'll be here for the next fourteen hours."

...

Home, yes home. Now, how to get in without destroying the place. Curtis was finally standing in his yard, at last. He didn't know what to do now, of course, but he knew he had to think of something fast. He had just ran through his sub division naked, someone had to have noticed him. Oh yes, that's not to mention the fact that he was glowing green the whole way. He sat down in his yard, hoping to not kill the grass under him. "What has happened to me?" he screamed in anger. He was so frustrated. There he was, standing in front of his goal, and he couldn't even enter.

Suddenly, as if answering his will, the green glow dimmed down until it finally dissipated. It was gone? Curtis stood to his feet, rubbing his hands up and down his body. It was really gone! He quickly sprinted up his front steps, jolted through his house, and burst through his bedroom door. "Safe," he mumbled as he allowed himself to fall onto his bed. "Now to sleep." He'd figure everything out in the morning. Yes, the morning would be better. He'd have a hangover, but maybe he'd be able to think more clearly. Yes, he would, he'd have to.

...

What a weird chain of events. Seriously weird. Brent had gone from church, to Muslim holdup, to truck accident, to hospital, and now on his way home with his family all in one night. He looked over at his little sister in the seat beside him, finding relief in her smile. "I'm glad you're ok," she had told him. For a four year old that was a meaningful statement.

Brent couldn't help but wonder why the events at the hospital had unfolded like they did. It seemed like they were in a hurry to get him out. He wasn't complaining of course, but it just seemed different from the stories he's always heard, stories of being held for a night or two for the mildest of things just to make sure the patient was alright. A money scam as he saw it, but for some reason he had cheated the scam. Maybe the emergency room needed the room. Maybe he seriously was alright. Maybe he needed to relax and enjoy his family's company, as he almost lost the luxury not long before that moment.

...

"What do you mean the one we're looking for is gone!" Dr. Lowan was having too many headaches. He had made it to his office in Atlanta, and was sitting in his desk chair when the call came in. He had thought things would be taken care of from there, but apparently he had thought wrong.

"I can find him if you'd like me to Dr. Lowan, but I have his blood sample here." The man was intimidated; his superior was pissed at him. Dr. Lowan made an attempt to calm down.

"What have you found with the blood sample?" he asked. He thought that tone was much better. Yes, perfectly calm.

"Nothing," the man on the other line told him. "His blood checks out. It shows no signs of the formula, nor does it have traces of the chemicals known to show up when the formula fails. He's clean."

"Let him go," Dr. Lowan commanded. "Do not pursue, it is possible his body completely obliterated the formula all together. If that is the case, we have nothing to worry about." He hung up. He knew deep down it wouldn't be that simple, but he was tired of dealing with it. On top of that he felt for this person, as they would most likely be going through hell sooner or later. None of the formulas worked in human testing. None. This person would most likely die by morning. It was sad for sure. Lowan slammed his fist on the desk in front of him. "Damn it," he muttered.

...

Home sweet home. At last, after a car ride of agonizing questions and concerns from his parents Brent was home. The bed, yes, sleep was called for at such an occasion. He had just gotten out of a coma, but that wasn't voluntary sleep so it didn't count. Brent was in his room before he even registered that he'd entered his house. The day had been eventful, but hopefully tomorrow would be better. It would be better. No trucks and terrorists tomorrow, just some good old school. Well, bad old school, but it was better than the experience he had just endured.

Brent slipped off his shirt and dug in his dresser for some shorts to sleep in. Wait, what was that? He slapped his hand against the back of his neck, expecting to smash a bug, but instead he hit water. Was that sweat? He quickly ran his hand up to his hair line only to realize that he was sweating profusely. He took a step back from his dresser. 'What's going on?'

He started to feel hot. Unendurably hot. He may as well been in the desert at that moment. His body seemed to open thousands, no millions of tiny water faucets everywhere, pouring sweat out and across his body. He suddenly felt weak and exhausted. Not again, not now. He had been alright though, right? Maybe not. Maybe he should have insisted upon staying at the hospital. Maybe he...

Brent fell backwards into his floor, once again blacking out.


	3. The Next Morning

Curtis yawned as the sunlight filtered into his room and gently broke his deep sleep. He stretched out on his bed, making sure his limbs were all loose before he attempted to get up. After he was satisfied he rolled out of his bed and slowly walked into his bathroom. He ran cold water and splashed it on his face, then paused as he looked in the mirror. Something had happened to him the night before. Something big. No.

He looked down at himself, relieved that he was not glowing. A sigh escaped his mouth as he leaned onto the wall opposite to the mirror, wondering if the nightmare was really over. It had to be. He was normal. He relaxed after a few minutes, then realized he had school. He stood to his feet and reached out for a towel, but it never touched his grip; a flash of green ignited from Curtis' hand and incinerated the towel in a brilliant flash.

...

Buzzing. The alarm? What else could it be? Brent aimlessly reached out into empty space searching for the source of the problem. Why was it above him? He reached up only to hit his hand on something. "Ouch" escaped his lips softly. He allowed his hand to fall to the floor while he tried to mentally wake up. Of course, it wasn't happening.

The alarm continued. 'Blasted alarm,' Brent thought as he tried opening his eyes. The light coming from outside was unbearable, but if he didn't do something about the alarm soon he'd lose his marbles.

Brent mentally prepped himself, then shot up and looked behind him. He had slept on the floor? He turned the alarm clock off then used his bed as a prop to help him stand up.

His first stop for the morning was the kitchen. He was starving. Why was he so hungry? Sure, he was usually hungry in the mornings, but not to this degree. This was insane. He could probably eat the same amount of food he did in an entire day in that one sitting, but he paced himself and left it at one bowl of cereal.

As if running a program he got up, dropped the bowl in the sink, and made his way to the bathroom. Brushing his teeth was the next thing on his morning list, and this morning he was way too groggy to pay attention to the mirror as he got his tooth brush.

He scrubbed away as he stood in the doorway between the hall and living room, watching the morning news. The weather was what he was wanting to see, but a quick glance at a clock on the wall downed his spirits in those regards and he made his way back to the bathroom. He entered it as he swished the saliva/toothpaste mix in his mouth, peeked into the mirror for a split second, froze in shock, then let the contents of his mouth spew and hit the sink right before the toothbrush met the same fate.

...

"What do you mean?" Dr. Lowan was almost frantic. How could they do this?

"The Board has relinquished your authority in the field and given your position to me," a man standing in front of Dr. Lowan's desk explained. A smile came across his face. "The chemicals are to be taken back to their respective research facilities and further analyzed. I am overseeing the project from here on out."

He turned and walked out of the office. This couldn't be. It mustn't be. The project had to be terminated, not researched. This was madness. Dr. Lowan moved his chair to look out the window, offering the morning air a sigh.

He traced his actions ever since he had obtained control of this thing in his mind a few times, trying to find his fatal flaw. There was none, was there? Fate perhaps. Maybe it was not meant to be. No, that couldn't be it. Fate was an idea, not a fact. He couldn't call himself a scientist and believe in fate. There was a screw up somewhere, it was just a matter of figuring it out. It wouldn't help at this point, though; he had already lost control of the situation.

...

Curtis sat staring at a wall in his room. He was wondering how he had gotten into the mess he was in, but wondered more how he was going to deal with it. What was it anyway? He didn't know. What he did know, however, was that he just destroyed a towel without thinking about it.

What was that green aura he emitted? Better yet, what was the green flash that just destroyed the towel he would have used to mop up the water on his face, the water that would have helped calm his shattered nerves. Too late for that.

He stood, knowing he couldn't miss anymore school. He'd probably fail if he did, really. He couldn't anger his dad again unless he wanted another broken bone...

Curtis quickly made his way into the bathroom. A shower was needed, that was definite. What he really needed was a hot tub, but a warm shower would do. Anything to sooth him at this point.

'I'm still asleep,' Brent thought as he stared at himself in the mirror. 'I can't be awake. This isn't real, it can't be.' Brent was definitely seeing himself in the mirror, there was no doubt in his mind about that, but he wasn't exactly believing the image he was seeing. Instead of the slightly flabby, muscle-deprived body he normally saw, he saw the body of what appeared to be the result of a life-long attempt at muscle building.

Brent's shoulders were broad and firm, contrary to the once slumped and undefined ones he had the day before. His chest and stomach could have came straight out of a model magazine, while is arms now boasted profound shapes and slants they did not once posses. In a nutshell, Brent was chiseled.

"No way," he murmured, still looking in awe at the mirror. How could this have happened? He took the truck accident into consideration. The liquid, yes, that had to be it. What had it been? He had never heard of any overnight steroids. He quickly pushed that thought from his mind. He didn't want to think about being exposed to drugs, that wasn't something he had ever wanted.

Wait, he had to be ready in a few minutes. He found himself dropping the mystery for now to take a shower. There would be plenty of time to think later, on the bus surely. He had to make it there, first.

...

Dr. Lowan sat behind his desk waiting. His assistant should have been there by now, what was taking him so long? He needed those files...

"Sorry I'm late, sir," a voice called to him. He smiled.

"It is ok, Scot. Do you have the files I wanted?"

"Yes sir, right here," Scot answered as he placed four binders on Dr. Lowan's desk.

"I appreciate it Scot, I need some time alone now."

"Yes sir." With that Scot was gone, and Dr. Lowan sat at his desk hovering over four very thick black binders.

He picked up the first one, labeled simply "12." He opened the binder slowly, as if the contents would snap out at him. He didn't know what he was looking for exactly, but he figured he'd need to know about the specific substances that had been spilled.

"Human Enhancement Number Twelve," he read. "Genetic serum designed to alter the subject from his or her DNA, patching in the relative strength and speed of an arachnid." Dr. Lowan paused. "No," he said, remembering the accident that had occurred years ago before his very eyes. "This was the same one, there cannot be more running around." He made a mental note to have the victim they had tracked to the hospital monitored.

He picked up the next binder, labeled "24." "This one went down near Gainesville," he said softly as he once again slowly opened the binder. "Human Enhancement Number Twenty Four, genetic serum designed to alter the subject from his or her DNA, patching in the immense proportionate strength of an ant."

He continued to read through the other two files. "Human Enhancement Number Fifty Six, enhancement of Human Enhancement Number One, another attempt to create a vaccine for radiation, more specifically radiation poisoning in this case."

"Human Enhancement Number Seventy Eight, incorporation of cells into the human body from deep sea fish with the ability to create their own light."

By the time he was finished reading the files Dr. Lowan was a tad bit more frustrated than he was before. Ignorance is bliss... he should have never asked which trucks had gone down. He was positive that if anyone was exposed to the substances they'd be dead, or worse. There was only one confirmed though, right? That wouldn't be too hard to keep up with. He pushed the files aside and picked up his phone.

"Marry? Yes, could you please patch me through to the internal affairs division please. Uh huh, Roger should be able to assist me just fine. Thank you very much."

...

Brent was running, no flat out sprinting to the bus stop. Thanks to the county being cheap any road less than a mile long was no longer on the bus routes, so consequently that meant Brent's 3/4 mile road was left out. What did this mean for him? Walking, or in this case running, to the end of the road every morning, then making the same hike back in the evenings. The funny thing about this morning was he was moving MUCH faster than usual. It wasn't out of desperation, or adrenaline, but his own newfound speed. Apparently his muscle mass wasn't the only thing that had grown overnight.

He made it to the bus stop without a sweat. He didn't even have to half-collapse on the ground when he got there like usual this time. He felt full of energy, more alive than ever. He definitely wasn't complaining about it.

Not even two seconds after he got to the bus stop he could hear the bus coming up the road ahead. Just in time, the way he liked it. He boarded the bus as he adjusted his shirt. The muscle had meant he had "grown into" his clothes, and he wasn't used to the tightness they now presented him. It was slightly awkward, but he'd learn to deal with it.

...

Curtis bolted out of his house, his hair still dripping fresh from the shower. He didn't mind it right then, he just minded making it to the bus on time. He could only guess what his dad would do if he had to wake him up to take him to school. That might be worse than what he'd do if Curtis failed. Curtis wiped the thought from his mind as he reached the bus stop. He was a couple of minutes early, perfect. No beating for him. Would he need to take a beating, though? He did have a flashy new trick that may help him next time his dad tried something...

The top of the bus popped up over the hill ahead. The bus wasn't the fanciest form of transportation; driving would be much better, but Curtis simply didn't have the money to buy a car. He would one day maybe, but not yet.

He got on the bus and did his normal quick-scan. Everyone was present, great. Great was sarcastic. He hated the people on the bus. Why had he tried to impress them before anyway? They should be inheritly impressed with him, he was after all the coolest person on the bus. That's right, he'd remind them of this real quick.

He made his way towards the back of the bus, eyeing Brent. Yes, Brent was the perfect puppet. He was so small and puny, and timid. Easily controlled for sure. Curtis could throw around his superiority right here. He finally came to Brent, who was in the last seat. "Get out of my seat," Curtis commanded.

"No," Brent quickly snapped back. "Go find your own seat. It's not like there aren't any left."

WHAT? How dare he! Curtis felt his face burst into redness as a result of his anger. This was supposed to be easy. "I won't tell you again, chum, get out of my seat!" Curtis brought his hand down and gripped Brent's shirt collar.

"I won't tell _you_ again, jerk, go find your own seat."

Curtis gripped Brent's shirt collar harder, but as his grip strengthened Brent's hand came up and grabbed on to Curtis' wrist. Curtis was about to retaliate with his other hand when Brent's grip deepened. Curtis suddenly found himself in pain, and what a pain it was. Was Brent's grip really that strong? Curtis got over the initial shock and caught Brent's hand with his other and tried to pry him off, only to find he couldn't even cause the thing to budge. 'What the hell?' Curtis thought. He was in a lot of pain and didn't want to admit it, but he didn't know how much longer he could play tough guy.

...

Was Brent really doing this? He was. He was standing up to that punk Curtis, and if Brent didn't know any better he'd say Curtis was developing a small fear of him. Curtis was trying very hard to get his wrist out of his grip, but his tries posed no more force than that of a two year old girl, at least from Brent's perspective they weren't. Brent was almost enjoying this.

He finally felt Curtis let go of his shirt collar, which resulted in Brent letting go of Curtis' wrist. To Brent's surprise, though, Curtis kept his other hand firmly gripped on Brent's own wrist. "That's what I thought," Curtis said with a smirk. No he didn't.

Brent quickly twisted his hand around, grabbed the wrist of the hand holding onto his wrist, and quickly forced it off him. Brent had turned the tables again, and Curtis was utterly shocked. "Now if you could, would you go find a seat?" Brent asked him with a smile. Curtis backed away as Brent let his wrist go and sat in a seat towards the middle of the bus. Brent hadn't expected to do that, but it definitely felt good. Really good. Brent let a smile escape his lips. It was going to be a good day.


	4. The Rebirth

Scot Rogers put the phone down. He smirked with delight, finally an assignment his crew might find excitement in. After all, a person surviving exposure to the substance that was described to him alone was a once in a million chance, but now he could have the effects kicking in? And he could turn into an inhuman son of a bitch at any given time at that, splendid.

He picked up the phone again and dialed down to one of his squad leaders. "Barry, we have an assignment. Meet me in the briefing room at ten hundred hours with your men."

...

Brent sat in his geometry class, eyes locked onto his teacher. Sure his outward self seemed to be paying attention to the lecture, but Brent simply couldn't find it in himself to pay attention with his current situation screaming in his face.

'What will I do if someone notices?' he thought. 'How am I supposed to tell them that I grew muscles over night? It's the most ridiculous thing I could say without being considered crazy. I need to come up with some sort of cover.'

But seriously, how would he cover this? He was beginning to realize there was no hope for his situation. He couldn't just tell everyone he was involved in a truck accident and exposed to some strange chemical, then magically the next morning he looked like he did, that goes right back around to the sanity questioning. What else could he do...

...

'How come I couldn't control Brent?' Curtis asked himself. 'It should have been easy, he's just some punk kid with no life. He should fear me. He _will_ fear me.'

Curtis glanced across his classroom, making a mental note that history was the most pointless thing he'd ever sat through. It was also many more things, like the most boring nap, longest thirty second interval of his life, biggest waste of time, and biggest reason for failing just to name a few. Who needed history? It happened then, not now right?

...

"He attends North Forsyth High School," Rogers explained to the group of fifty men in front of him. They were some of the best, definitely the right squad for the job. "We will only be running reconnaissance, no shots are to be fired unless in self defense. We must remain unseen at all times and assess the subject's behavior. Any sudden change in temperament along with any physical changes must be immediately reported back to HQ."

Sudden physical changes were the biggest thing to look for. If the boy were to mutate like the original experiment, they'd need to catch him or neutralize him before he became a threat. The men looked ready enough, but he still questioned their readiness. They had never dealt with anything like this before, _he _had never dealt with anything like this before. Could they live up to the challenge should the situation go critical? He only hoped.

"Are there any questions?" he asked them after a long, awkward silence. He could tell they disapproved of firing on an innocent boy, but if he turned into what Lowan feared he would, the troops would have no quarrel in taking him out. One man raised his hand.

"Yes, sir," Rogers said as he pointed out the young man in the back.

"Sir, are there any side effects from coming in contact or even being in the same area as this boy?" the man asked.

"Fear," Rogers answered.

...

Brent had made it through the day thus far, but the mystery surrounding his current questions took his attention away from everything. He seemed to daydream in his classes, and going from one class to the next was done in a robotic fashion. At lunch he allowed his mind to rest only because his stomach got the best of him, but it would be the only time.

Only one person approached him all day about his transformation. "Brent, what happened?" It was Mark, his best friend. Mark was a rather tall young man, pushing six and a half feet tall. He had been Brent's best friend since middle school. Consequently he was the one Brent knew would notice if no one else did.

"What do you mean?" Brent asked, trying to sound confused.

"You have muscle." Mark was almost poking fun. "How could this have happened?" Brent didn't appreciate the playful tone in Mark's voice.

"You can't tell me you haven't noticed," Brent snapped. "It's not my fault you're jealous that I have the motivation to work out and you don't." It was the biggest heap of crap Brent had ever come up with, but it worked. Mark had backed off.

...

Curtis sat in the bathroom in the last stall, his back against the concrete-block wall. He had hoped just a few minutes of clearing his head would help him concentrate, but he had been in the bathroom for over an hour now. Was he going insane? Would he wake up safely in his bed and realize it had all been a bad dream? He doubted it. He needed to find out what had been done to him, and how he could fix it. No, use it. Yes. All the people in his life that made his life miserable would not be able to bother him anymore...

Curtis stood and made his way to class. That alone time in the bathroom had been what he needed to clear his mind. It was perfectly clear now. Crystal clear. He'd seek revenge, but not now. First he had to learn to control his newfound abilities, then he'd be able to effectively strike. He even knew how to practice. He'd go to class, do the deal the rest of the day, ride home on the bus with no fuss, then educate himself on his gift. Yes, it was perfect. Then, after his personal lessons came to a close, he could get some very nice sleep. He could sleep easily that night, because the next day was liberation day. Curtis was going to make it, and the world would watch as he cleared his path.

...

Brent sat at the lunch table quietly. Why was he quiet? That was because he was piling food down his throat. He was starved, and at this point watching what he ate wasn't the first thought on his mind. That was when it dawned on him; the change had caused this increase in appetite. His body was screaming for fuel, screaming. His metabolism must have been through the roof, or higher. Brent thought about the little bit of science he knew and realized such an overnight change would do that to someone. Muscle didn't spout on its own; his body had most likely exhausted all it had left the night before, and now it needed more to replenish itself. Brent was definitely not complaining, but he questioned how healthy this habit would be.

After two trays of food Brent found himself being stared at by a couple of his peers. He simply smiled and got up to throw away the styrofoam trays, avoiding the ridicule that could come. As he threw the trays into the large trash can, however, something caught his eye; a white patch of skin on his wrist.

Brent was caucasian, but not pale; something was up. He brought his wrist up for a closer look. 'Looks like scar tissue,' Brent thought to himself. 'That's funny, I don't remember my wrist getting cut up, or gashed up in this case, last night. Even if it had, it would still be a bloody mess, and I would probably still be in the hospital.'

Brent brought his other wrist up only to notice an identical white patch of skin. 'Weird.' He thought for a moment, trying to come up with an explanation of why his wrists now sported twin scarred patches of skin. Needless to say, he could find none. It bothered him, that was for sure, but he would have to leave it for later.

Later? He had been leaving everything for later, and it was beginning to become a pain in the neck. So much stuff going down at once, so little answers to justify it. He needed time to himself to piece it together. Nah, that's not what he wanted, he just really wanted to see how strong he really was, but thinking otherwise helped him justify it. The truth was, as scared as he was, he was also happy. For the first time in his life he felt amazingly energetic and was amazingly ripped to go with it. He never thought he'd see the day. How would he ever cope with it? Easily.

...

Brent had gotten through yet another day at high school. What a feat it was, to survive such a place. Seriously, the teachers were a bore and the students seemed to always be threatening with their stares and body language. Life as Brent knew it was pretty much meaningless in the big picture, and he knew it. Get up, go to school, go home, go to bed, do it all again the next day; no excitement. Except, of course, from the night before, but that was a fluke. Surely nothing like it would happen again, surely. Yes, Brent was positive, his life would return to the dull beat he had always known. Alright, maybe not the exact dull beat, maybe a more muscular beat, but still dull. Right?

He got on the bus at the end of the day and realized he was one of the only ones on it at that point. One of the first, nice. He sat in the back, satisfied with his great feat. The freshmen liked to try to get on to get in the back, but today he had somehow beat them. Victory.

Defeat; Curtis got on. Brent felt a tiny quiver in his spine in response to Curtis' presence. Great, now even his body reacted to the punk...

Curtis sat in the seat in front of Brent, which was a bit of a surprise to Brent. He had shown him up that morning, right? Why would you sit near the guy who made you look like an idiot eight hours before? Brent didn't understand Curtis' move, but he was also smart enough to keep his mouth shut. No conflict, yes, peace was the way to go if possible.

But what was that heat? It was autumn and for some reason there was a pretty vicious heat in the air, or at least on the bus. No, it started when Curtis got on. Why?

...

Curtis was almost gleeful to see Brent on the bus already. Why? Because the whelp would be blown into nothingness the next day. Yes, that was right. Curtis made his way to the back and sat in the seat in front of Brent while being careful to not make eye contact. He could tell he was emitting a bit of the energy within him from the thought of wiping that face from existence, but having no control of that shot down the idea of stopping it. Curtis just had to try to keep himself under control. Yes, stay reserved and make it off the bus, that was the key.

"...going to Pigeon Forge this weekend."

What? Curtis had caught the tail end of the conversation Brent and the guy in the seat across the isle from Brent were having. Brent was apparently going to Pigeon Forge that upcoming weekend. 'Not if I can help it,' he thought to himself with a grin on his face.

His stop was coming up, perfect. He leaned into the isle where he had left his bag, put his head down, grabbed his bag, then looked up and around to Brent. He wasn't sure what possessed him to say what he said, nor did he care at this point. "You're going to die."

...

Brent stepped off the bus at long last. The drive had been weird after Curtis had gotten off his stop thanks for the choice words shared with Brent before Curtis' stop. Why had that been all about? Brent tried not to think about it.

Brent left his stuff at the back door and made his way to the line of woods that wrapped around his yard. 'I need something to test with,' he thought as he looked around for a fallen thick stick.

'Perfect,' he thought as he bent down and picked up a tree limb that had fallen. The limb was probably teen feet long, bit the five inch diameter was what caught his eye. He gripped the limb in both hands, closed his eyes, and put forth the effort he believed it would take to snap the limb.

When he opened his eyes he was shocked; without any resistance the limb had snapped. Brent had actually thought for a split second he really didn't even pick up a limb; the resistance was so little it was barely noticeable. Was it possible that the limb was rotten? No, it was hefty and sturdy, so he ruled that out. Brent sighed as he dropped the two pieces back on the ground, only to find that they wouldn't come out of his hands; both clung effortlessly to his fingertips.

...

Curtis sat in his room, listening in terror at the screaming and yelling coming from the next room over; his parents were in another fight. He should have known it'd happen, he should have known. His dad had screamed at him non-stop from the moment he had entered the house. Alright, not non-stop, he stopped yelling at Curtis and started yelling at Curtis' mother when she tried to get him to calm down. That pig.

His dad was a problem, yes a problem. Curtis stood to his feet as he wiped the tears from his eyes. It ended now. Yes, Curtis would fix this. He would save himself and his mother from this hell on earth, there was no stopping him. Too bad he didn't have time to play around with his abilities...

BAM! Gun fire? He heard his mother gasp in pain, followed by a thud in the floor. For a split second Curtis found himself in tears again, but then he quickly snapped out of it in a fit of rage. He was unsure of how it happened, or why at the time, but he suddenly felt himself lift off the ground as the green glow began to engulf him. He flew threw the ceiling, then through the roof, realized he was in the air, then came right back down.

Lucky for him the radiation his body was emitting ate up the roof and everything else between him and the floor, but the unlucky part was he landed in the room his father and mother had fought in. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he father screamed as Curtis regained himself. The picture his brain painted for him of the room was one he'd never forget; his father stood at the other side of the room with a hand gun, his mother lay dying next to him.

"What I should have done a long time ago," Curtis said as he brought both hands up. Curtis let loose with his emotions; all the hate, bitterness, anger, rage, and frustration he had in him was concentrated on his father. Suddenly the green glow flared up, his hands began to form a higher concentration of the radiation around them, and as his mother drew her last breath Curtis unleashed a radiation blast powerful enough to take down a hundred men into his father's chest.


	5. Growing Pains

Sleepless nights were not Brent's idea of good nights. Normally it took no time at all for the teen to fall asleep, but this night was different. So much had happened, so much to think about. Was he crazy? Was it a dream? It seemed real enough, but the fact that he couldn't sleep made it questionable in his mind. He had so many dreams over the years where strange things happen and he couldn't run half as fast as he should or couldn't get away from some strange scary creature, why not one where he could beat the crap out of said creature for a change?

Had it been the accident? Oh no, what if he was in a comma? How long had he been out if that were the case? Was everything that had happened to him since the accident nothing but his imagination running wild while he lay in a hospital bed with his family sitting around him worried sick? He couldn't bear the thought.

BUZZ!

"Crap!" Brent yelled as his alarm wailed. He could tell he was going to be exhausted. Not tired, exhausted. He slowly rolled towards the edge of his bed.

"Everything alright Mr. Crap?" It was his mom. He sat up and smirked.

"Yea, sorry, just don't want to get up."

"Only one more day before we leave, you can make it." She was right, they were going on a mini vacation, just had to survive the day. That was the catch. "So how are you feeling? You ran out of here so fast yesterday and went straight to your room when you got home from school. Everything still alright?"

"I feel fine mom, you know I would have said something if I weren't." Brent stood and stretched, finding himself feeling surprisingly good for not having slept at all. Maybe it would be a good day, Brent could only hope.

...

"We are in position sir." Rogers nodded. Of course the person confirming their position was in another location therefore could not see the nod, but habits die hard.

"Thank you, hold your positions. Lewis, you understand your role correct?"

"Yes sir." Lewis was the best undercover man Rogers had, the perfect candidate to take the place of the on duty police officer that was always present in the school. "I am in uniform and have started the routine they outlined for me. I will keep watch for the boy and never draw any speculation that I may be watching him."

"Good." Rogers turned to the team that was with him. "Stand by men, school time approaches." They were in a batch of woods overlooking the school. Not as close as Rogers had hoped to be, but they didn't have much of a choice. Everywhere else was exposed and they certainly didn't want to draw attention to themselves. They only wanted to be standing by in case something happened with the boy. He'd made it through a whole day without them, so Rogers could only hope that meant nothing would happen. Still, Lowan had said they were still in the red. Better safe than sorry.

...

Brent sat on the bus, wondering to himself what would happen if Curtis tried to get more physical than he'd already been. He had threatened his life after all. Wasn't that illegal? Was Brent worrying for nothing? Probably, but who knew? Curtis definitely had a few loose screws, Brent had better be careful how he handled things in the future. Can't tick off a crazy, they're unpredictable. Completely unpredictable. For all Brent knew Curtis would be bringing a gun with him today. His heart skipped a beat. That thought, the thought that would have normally entered the mind of a student had entered his. He suddenly had a very clear and present awareness that if Curtis was indeed crazy enough he may live up to that threat.

"Please be in a coma," he muttered to himself. At least if it was a dream he wouldn't actually be killed. His stop was right ahead too. Moment of truth, right? Brent held his breath as the bus rounded the curve before Curtis' stop. Empty. He wasn't there? Should Brent really be worrying now? Was Curtis skipping school so he could go hide in Brent's neighborhood that afternoon and wait for him to get home from school? Anxiety was building up. So much could actually go wrong but Brent had to hold his cool. Relax Brent, nothing was going to happen. Overreacting is not cool.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips. He was going to stress himself out big time if he didn't cool it. 'Just take it all one step at a time, Brent,' he thought. 'Get to school, get through the day, and hopefully you'll forget about it….. or you'll wake up from this blasted comma.' Joking with himself wasn't going to make it better, but he needed a mood lightener. He also needed a redo on the last few days so he would have never been in the accident and gone through all this, but he wasn't complaining about it either. Sure there were things he couldn't explain nor condone, such as the newfound scarring on his wrists and the uncanny ability to hold onto tree limbs with his fingertips, but the muscle mass was definitely welcomed.

He arrived at school a few minutes early. 'Great, need to find Mark.' He wanted to apologize to him for the day before and wanted to tell him everything that had happened. He decided that someone needed to know, and who better than his best friend?

"Brent!" Speak of the devil, Brent turned to see Mark running up behind him. His bus must have came in right behind Brent's.

"Just the person I needed to see." Mark gave Brent a sarcastic look.

"No I will not take you to the dance this semester," Mark nearly yelled as they entered the school.

"Hey hey hey, what the heck are you talking about?"

"Nothing." Typical Mark. He had a tendency to try to humiliate someone then act like nothing happened.

"Well, since you're in that mood I guess I won't apologize to you for being a jerk yesterday and I won't tell you the super awesome cool thing that has happened to me."

"Fine I will take you."

"Not the reaction I was looking for, but I guess it will do." Brent leaned in closer to Mark so he could keep his voice down. "Remember the other day when I was involved in a truck accident and taken to the hospital?"

"How could I forget, it was all over the news, you ran out in front of a truck. My friend the genius."

"No Mark, seriously, they didn't take me to the hospital because I got hit by the truck or because they just wanted to make sure I was alright. I was exposed to something."

"Do you have herpes now? Because that is just gross and I will tell every girl you ever try to date that all I know is you got herpes and a truck was involved."

"Mark, I'm being serious."

"Me too man, I will not withhold that information from them." Mark and Brent both stopped and stared at each other for a moment. "Okay okay, I'm being serious now. What did you get exposed to?"

"I'm not sure what it was, but it was a blue liquid. It burned really bad, the pain was so intense that I passed out. I woke up in the hospital and for some reason they had me on the express lane out of there as soon as things checked out. That night after I got home I passed out again and woke up the next morning with, well, the muscle."

Mark was silent for a moment, but only a moment. "And you didn't save me any of this awesome blue liquid of awesome why?"

"Sorry, that wasn't exactly on my priority list man. I was kind of in pain and worrying about my own potential death."

"Yea I know, sorry I was just kidding. But how strong did it make you?"

"Way stronger than I was before, but I haven't tested the full strength yet. I also had a few other things out of the ordinary pop up." Brent rolled up his sleeve to reveal the white buildup on his wrist. "It's like scar tissue, but I've never had an injury there. It's not the same as a scar either, it feels different. And I found out by accident that my fingers can cling to, well, so far branches but I was a tad freaked out by it so I didn't explore it any more."

Another moment of silence occurred as Mark absorbed Brent's words. It wasn't exactly the easiest story to believe, but Mark knew Brent couldn't even make up all this randomness. "What are you going to do about it?"

"What do you mean?" Legitimate question. What should Brent do about it?

"Brent, there is obviously something going on here. It may not be safe, or healthy. You need to get checked out, make sure you're not in danger of falling over dead any second now."

"That's the thing Mark, I feel better than I ever have. I didn't sleep at all last night because I had so much on my mind yet I still feel great. And what do you want me to do? Go back to the hospital so they can keep me and I can become some science experiment?"

"No, but this could be bad for you. Do you really want to risk death?"

"No, but until I start feeling strange I'm not going to push it. If it's not going to kill me I don't think I should worry about it. If it comes down to going back will save my life then I do have to bite the bullet and get checked out, but no sooner than I need it." Mark nodded. He clearly understood where Brent was coming from, but was concerned for his wellbeing. Hopefully if he had to Brent would make the right decision.

...

"The subject has entered the building sir."

"Thank you, keep me posted." Rogers watched the school patiently. Nothing to do now but wait it out. At first he had been confused on why they hadn't simply extracted the boy from his home the night before, but Lowan had explained how they needed to be low key and he did not want to interfere with the boy's life anymore if there was going to be no crisis. He only hoped there was not going to be a crisis, or he'd be putting his team into danger that could have been avoided. The irony or morals and boundaries; conserve one's freedom at the risk of other's lives.

"Sir, the boy is acting normal. It should be noted, however, that he is in great shape. Is this kid on the football team?"

"No Lewis, that is probably from the effects of the crap he was doused in the other day. Stay alert and keep in touch." Great, so the stuff had worked on the boy, but to what extent? Would he reach the peak of Lowan's fears? Hopefully not.

...

Brent stuffed the last chicken nugget into his mouth, wondering if the constant hunger would ever end. He'd never been hungry all the time like this. He thought he'd never make it to lunch. He knew one plate wouldn't be enough, and of course he was right. What he didn't think would happen was that he'd be done with both his trays before most everyone else was done with their one. He now sat awkwardly at the table with a few friends but had nothing to say. He was a bit too embarrassed to say anything really. He'd never put down that much food and the day before's lunch period still loomed over him. He had to get the hunger under control. He was smart enough to know it was because his body needed the energy to upkeep the drastic changes, but he hoped it would only be temporary.

...

Curtis had slept in, and done so with great delight. Not going to school was an exciting prospect for him, no matter how much of a habit he'd made it. This day was different though, this day he had a mission. This day everyone who'd ever crossed his path or showed themselves his superior would be no more. The time to act was now. He was fully aware that he may die in the process, but as long as he took out some of them with him he'd be satisfied. Brent was first, not because he'd made the largest "impression" but because he was the most recent issue. But how would he get the others? An idea began to boil in his head as he sat down at the kitchen table with a piece of paper and a pen. It was hard to block out the smell coming from the room where so much atrocity and death had taken place, but he was able to manage.

The piece of paper began to fill rapidly with names, names of people Curtis wanted to have his way with. He tucked it into his jacket pocket and stood with purpose. Just writing those names boiled up the hatred associated with them. The anger flowed through him, and through that anger he found a new peace, the peace of having the ability to destroy at his fingertips. For whatever reason his newfound abilities reacted with his emotions, and that list was all he needed to get himself worked up enough to control the flight he experienced the evening before.

He began to levitate off the floor, allowing a deep and wide smile to shine. He was overwhelmed by the happiness that he was going to do it; he was going to go out and avenge himself. His levitation began to turn into something more. He started to hold himself away from the ceiling with his hands, but found that to be difficult. He wasn't radiating with the green energy yet so the ceiling wasn't being dissolved above him. This wasn't flying too well with him. Quickly he was angered more. Why couldn't this work for him? Why was it giving him so much trouble? His body began to glow again. Yes, it was working. Finally good luck was coming his way.

The ceiling was still above him, and still blocking him from leaving. It would have been easier to walk out the door, but that wasn't the point. Curtis needed this display of his power. It gave him more confidence. With a roar he tried to will the energy to dissolve the ceiling with no luck. He could feel the power overflowing inside of him, but why wasn't it releasing? It started to feel like a huge amount of pressure, constantly pushing on him from the inside out. It finally became painful. "What is wrong with me?" he yelled. Finally he felt a release, but not in the way he had hoped. The energy burst from him, destroying everything around him in an explosion of green energy. Before he could put together what he'd just experienced he was hundreds of feet in the air and climbing. He looked down to see his house in ruins. This was it, he was doing it. He hadn't meant to destroy the house, but was he really going to need it? He directed himself towards the school and fired forwards at full speed, or at least what he felt was full speed. Soon he would be the winner. Yes, in the end Curtis always wins.

...

"Sir, we have an incoming."

"I see that, prepare to move in. This was not the problem we were sent here to contain but it doesn't look good and I'm sure it's not here to be friendly." Rogers watched as a green orb came in towards the school at a very fast pace, but slowed enough to make what he would assume to be a gentle landing on the side of the school opposite from where his team was hiding. He handed a phone to one of his squad members. "Contact Lowan and describe to him in great detail what we just saw, and tell him to get the local authorities over here. I have a bad feeling about this."

...

Brent sat quietly still at his lunch table. He'd become lost in his thoughts again and wasn't paying any attention to everyone around him. His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a very strong sensation that fired off inside him. It was a strange feeling, but distinct; danger. He had never experienced this feeling before and had no clue why he knew it was danger, but everything inside him screamed at him to do something, anything, but sit there. He looked to his side, ready to ask the person next to him if they could "feel" it too when he realized something out of the ordinary; the world around him was completely out of focus and slowed down to a crawl. Was he hallucinating? Had he been hungrier than he thought? He turned to his other side, trying to figure out what was going on. He noticed his movement wasn't at a normal speed either. It was slow, but much faster than the movement of those around him.

He stood up and turned behind him, now facing the back of the lunch room and kitchen area. His attention instantly fell on a figure standing in the doorway to the lunch line. Curtis? He was completely in focus, as was a large green ball coming at Brent very rapidly. There was a sinister smile across Curtis' face. Had he fired off this green thing? What was it?

CRACK!

Between the shock of the reality around him and the late realization that the green ball was going to hit him Brent didn't even think about reacting. The green ball hit Brent square in the chest, instantly firing off nerve endings and causing a great deal of pain. As Brent was actually pushed off the ground by the force behind the ball, which had now apparently been absorbed into his chest, he felt at first a hard impact, then a deep and hot burning sensation, then nothing. He barely felt the two tables between him and the wall he completely smashed through along with everyone sitting at them, but he did feel the wall stop his flight. The burning sensation diminished as Brent's world became fuzzy. He fell to the floor in a heap and quickly realized the world around him was growing darker by the second. The last thing he heard before it all went black was a sick laughter over the screaming of the students in the lunch room.


	6. First Encounters

As Curtis' laughter died he had a moment to reflect. He'd just fried Brent, and now he was looking upon the broken body from across the room. It was a Kodak moment if there ever was one. He'd succeeded, but he had to snap out of his glee fast if the other Kodak moments were going to happen. He quickly looked around the room, seeing that the students and faculty were reacting appropriately. He couldn't even hear himself think, so he decided to grasp their attention. "Shut up and listen to me!" he screamed over them as he levitated off the ground. "No one moves or they get fried next!"

To his dismay they kept running. 'Guess I have to get their attention better,' he thought. Without even bringing his hands forward he shot off massive balls of radiation at the three exits from the cafeteria. Naturally the people in the path were burnt up. Curtis smiled and let out another shout. "I told you, now nobody move!" The dozens of students and faculty heeded the warning and simply turned to face him. Some cried, others trembled, but all took a glance back at the massacre that had almost happened to them. Now their screams of fear couldn't compare to the screams of pain coming from the survivors of that massacre, but out of fear they were forced to not act. They couldn't run to anyone's aid or get aid themselves.

"Freeze!" The voice caught Curtis off guard. He turned to see the school policeman. He'd forgotten about him. The man was pointing a gun at him. Did he really want to do that?

"Burn." Curtis fired another blast of radiation at the officer, smiling contently as it consumed the man's gun hand and legs. 'Strange angle,' Curtis thought as he turned his attention back to the cafeteria full of students and faculty. "I need a phone, everyone to the office. And don't try anything or everyone will get it."

...

"I have no idea what it is Dr. Lowan, but it came out of no where."

"Give the phone to Rogers," Dr. Lowan commanded. He was sitting kicked back with his feet on his desk and a television set on the news across the room. He couldn't believe this was happening.

"Yes sir?"

"Scot, listen to me. First subject is no longer priority. The new one is. I think he had something to do with a house explosion not far from the school. Any word from your man on the inside?"

"No sir, he's not answering now."

"That's not good. Hold on I have something." Dr. Lowan turned his attention to his computer screen. He'd been monitoring the phone calls exiting the school and saw nine one one flash up from the office. With a click he was listening. "Oh my God."

"What is it sir?"

"Do not engage, the new target has made a phone call out. He has hostages."

...

"That's right you stupid bitch I need to talk to the sheriff or somebody, I'm holding up this school and have already killed a few people and I'm not scared to keep on unless you get me to someone that I can talk to. And get this damn fire alarm turned off!"

Curtis was in the office. He was becoming incredibly frustrated by the fire alarm that someone had apparently pulled along with the whimpering and crying of his hostages. He hadn't realized the offices were as small as they were, then again he'd never seen a few dozen people crunched into them either.

"One moment sir I'm patching you through to the police chief." The woman who had picked up was a total idiot. Curtis' patience was growing thin.

"Hello?" Finally, a man's voice came over the phone. "What is your name?"

"I am Curtis, and I have some demands for you so listen up and listen good. I am going to fax you a list of names of people. For every person on this list you send me I will send you a hostage. No make that two per, because I have a whole shit ton of hostages in here. I better get one every fifteen minutes, starting fifteen minutes from the time you receive the fax. Once I get the last of the people on my list you will get the remainder of the hostages. So give me the number to fax and let's get this show on the road, I don't have all day and I'm already getting bored."

...

Screaming. Crying. Was he dead? Had he ended up in Hell? But wasn't he saved? Why hadn't God spared him? What had he done wrong? It was definitely dark here, wasn't it? No, wait, a glimmer of light. It was distant but close at the same time. Were his eyes shut? That was it, it was just his eyes. Brent slowly opened them. Welcoming him back into the world was a hazed view of tables in front of him that were turned over. Had he knocked them over? Must have. He'd never been launched like that, and the force he was launched at was insane. No, beyond insane, there was no word for it.

Brent slowly looked down at his chest, seeing the point of impact for the large green ball. It had fried right through his shirt, leaving the edges around the hole singed. His skin, however, was intact. Burned, but intact. Pink, what was that, first degree burn? Was it even that? Brent tried to bring his hand up to feel his chest, only to feel a strong resistance. He looked down at his hand in shock.

The bottom of his hands were covered in a white gooey substance that had also stuck to the floor. "What the heck," he mumbled as he put some more muscle behind his attempt at freeing his hands. He was finally able to free one from the white stuff's grasp and used the free hand to get his other unstuck. He inspected his hands, quickly finding a bit of the stuff hanging from the white patches on his wrists. Had it come from those patches? Was that it? Were they really some sort of glands? Brent started trying to make the substance come out of them by tensing up muscles and relaxing others in his hands and arms. Moving a finger slightly he saw the tendons in his wrist moved as well, so he started moving his fingers around. 'There has to be something that causes it,' he thought. Suddenly the desired effect occurred as Brent bent his ring and middle fingers inward to face his palm, but in a way he wasn't expecting. A line shot out from his wrist with considerable force and flew across the room, expanding from the wrist the whole way. When it hit the wall on the other side of the room the end gripped the wall, but the strand kept coming from Brent's wrist and cluttering onto the wall until he released the hand position. The strand, which was about the width of a rope, simply detached from his wrist and sat in his hand. He looked down at it, realizing it looked a lot like a spider web.

"Alright, that is officially the strangest thing I've ever seen," Brent muttered as he slowly stood to his feet. He felt something wet on his neck. What now? He brought his hand back and felt the warm liquid and slowly traced it up to…. the back of his head? He was bleeding! Crap crap crap. Why wasn't his head exploding in pain? The realization of what he'd went through was starting to come back to him. The wrist thing had taken his attention off, but now he was wondering what had happened exactly, and why. As he turned to look at his resting point after his little air trip he wondered how he survived making a dent in a concrete block wall a kid could sit in and survived.

The screaming and crying! So much had hit him so fast that he'd allowed it to simply become background noise. He scanned the cafeteria and saw no one, but in the halls he could hear people. He walked over to a doorway and nearly got sick from the sight. There were a few students on the floor outside the doorway as well as the other ones. Some were dead, some were alive and making it verbally known through their wails of pain, but all were missing body parts. There was no blood on the floor, but outside each door there was a large hole. Curtis must have fired more balls of green stuff and obviously this is the effect of that. He was about to approach the wounded when he heard someone inside the cafeteria. "Brent!"

Brent turned and looked in the direction of the voice, seeing the school's policeman on the floor on the other side of the room. He ran towards him. "How did you know my name?" he asked as he crouched down next to the battered man. He was missing his right hand and arm from the elbow down and both legs from about mid-thigh down. Brent didn't have to ask him what happened.

"I know a considerable amount about you, but you need to listen to me right now. I'm no scientist but judging from the hit you took and survived and the chemical we were briefed on that you were in contact with you are a miracle. Your little friend with the green shit took everyone that's not already dead to the office, said he needed a phone. He's probably using them all as hostages for something. That means no one outside will come in." The man's voice was trying to hid the obvious pain he felt, but Brent could tell he was hurting. "You may be those peoples' only chance."

Brent had a million questions he wanted to ask this man, but at the same time his brain was processing a few more important things; this man was going to die along with all the kids in the hallway if they didn't get help fast and there were others that could meet the same fate. He knew he had to act. The man made sense, something had to be done and Brent was the only one in a position to do it.

"Wait, before you go you may want to know that only a couple dozen people know what happened to you. If they see you it will be brought out in the open, we were trying to keep that from happening."

"We?" Who was we? Brent was becoming more confused each moment.

"I'm undercover, but it's not important. We're trying to keep this thing sealed, if you want to do the same you need to take some precautions." Brent understood, his identity as the one that was mutated for lack of better words was unknown but would be very quickly if he went in there full force.

Brent looked down at his charred shirt. It definitely didn't have any further use as a shirt. He took it off and gave it a good rip, pulling a large hunk of the red material and covering the top of his head with it, tying it off in the back just below his hair. He tore another piece and covered his mouth and nose, tying it off at the back of his head. He couldn't feel any fresh bleeding from the back of his head, which was good. No pain yet either despite the pressure on that spot from his makeshift mask. Brent looked down at the police officer. "I'll be back soon with help." He had made his decision. He would use what God had given him.

...

"Fifteen minutes is almost up chief," Curtis said casually. "Where's my first listy? Come on I know you can find these people. If I have to go find them all on my own it's only going to make things take longer for me and you'll have these peoples' deaths staining your hands."

"Curtis I've told you we cannot accept these terms, isn't there something else you want?"

"Nope, just give me the people on that list and I will be happy. You are wasting both our times. Which hostage do you want to watch die first? Student? Staff member? I have a variety in here."

"Not for long, Curtis." What was that? Who was that? The voice came from the doorway. Curtis turned his whole levitating body to face the new presence. What was this? The voice was familiar, and the person standing there at the door was familiar…. He wore pieces of cloth to cover his face, no shirt, and a pair of jeans. Wait, those shoes…. Brent? He was alive? How?

"Hey chief I'm gonna have to call you back, get me that list done." Curtis dropped the phone on the floor. "You should be dead. How are you here? And what do you plan on doing?"

"Stopping you."

Curtis couldn't help but laugh. "Stop me? How do you expect to stop me? I am powerful and mighty and you're just you. Maybe just one ball of radiation wasn't enough, let's make it two." Curtis held up his hands and charged up a large ball of radiation. He released it at Brent, tasting the sweet victory he'd have. Would it be sweeter the second time around?

...

It was just as Brent had hoped. Curtis' attention was on him, not the people he was holding captive. He was also having that extreme feeling of danger and the very focused concentration and perception on that incoming danger, the green ball. Brent sidestepped it this time, and did so with obvious ease. "Don't move around it just prolongs it!" Curtis yelled as he starting firing one after another. Brent started sidestepping and backstepping like crazy, having a couple close calls. It was getting to be more difficult as Curtis closed in on him. Finally one well placed shot had Brent cornered and left him with only one option; jump.

Brent had wondered how his newfound strength would affect his jumping. Maybe a little bit right?

SMASH!

He went through the ceiling tiles? Well yes and a bit more. He felt himself plowing through various materials before stopping on a harder ceiling between the roof and ceiling tiles. He wasn't sure how far up he was but didn't want to fall back down for sure. Out of pure impulse he tried to hold on to that ceiling he was now practically hugging. His eyes were closed tight, ready for the freefall feeling to take over but it never happened. He slowly opened his eyes and saw that he was gripping it. A flat surface and somehow he was holding on. How the heck? It wasn't just his hands either, his _feet_ were holding on too. He dared not move for a moment, wondering what the consequence would be. Would he even be able to move when he wanted? One hand wouldn't hurt. He removed it from the surface and brought it up above his head. It detached and reattached easily. He brought a foot up, then the other hand, and the other foot. He was crawling across something upside down. How was this possible?

'Snap out of it Brent,' he thought. 'No time for this, you can figure it out later. You have to do something about Curtis.' But what? If he actually was able to do something to Curtis what would it be? Knock him out? Run him off? Kill him? No, killing was not an answer. It would never be an option, ever. Brent had to knock him out or run him off. Brent crawled forward a few feet till he was where he guessed Curtis had been standing. If he came up through it he should be able to go back down through it all without being hurt too much, right? Brent pushed off with force and braced himself for the second round of plowing his body through random insulation, wires, and metal. As he came through the ceiling tiles he was able to turn in mid air and land on his hands in feet, and to his surprise he'd landed right in front of Curtis.

"My turn." Brent stood and leaned into a punch aimed up at Curtis' gut. Curtis had seen it coming and started to levitate higher but had not anticipated the speed Brent had come at him with. The punch landed solidly on Curtis' right thigh and threw his balance off. He drifted back and flipped upside down before hitting a wall.

After a quick thought of how to keep the fight close Brent brought up his hands and fired the web-like strands at Curtis. They both contacted and instantly clung to him. Before he could even realize what had happened Brent was pulling his end of the lines. Curtis stopped levitating right before the pull, causing the pull to drag him towards Brent and the ground. The impact on the ground made Curtis roll uncontrollably towards Brent, who stood ready. Curtis was disoriented and could not regain himself in time and received a very purposed punch in the chest as he came out of a roll.

The impact sent him flying across the room and took the breath right out of his lungs. Brent hadn't tried to hit him hard fearing the consequences of using his full strength, but it was obvious Curtis was shaken. So shaken in fact that he decided to bail. "I will be seeing you," he gasped as he levitated off the ground and flew straight through the ceiling.

He'd done it! Brent beat Curtis! But what had happened to Curtis? Why was he like that? The police officer had to have the answers. "Go to them, you're all free," he told the countless people held up in the office that had witnessed the fight. Without hesitation they stood and started towards the door. Brent jumped back into the ceiling, not wanting to be traced back to the cafeteria. He'd realized he needed to be found there since that is where everyone saw him get hit but he didn't want to be seen running there by the hostages. Through all the crap in the ceiling he could see where the ceiling raised, which was where the cafeteria was. He crawled towards it as he really got a feel for the whole ceiling sticking thing. He had to get a feel for a lot of things now. Web-like junk coming out of his wrists, sensing danger before it happened, his entire world seemingly stopping around him so he can perceive incoming danger; it was straight out of a science fiction movie. He needed answers.


	7. What's in a Name?

"That must be him," he said, pointing at a young man just kneeling down next to their undercover guy. The team of FBI medical staff rushed in, bio-suits and all, and surrounded the two. Sinclair had never had such a unique opportunity in his career before. "Hello, Brent is it? You need to come with us. We're gonna check you out and make sure everything is alright."

"Everything will be fine as soon as I get answers."

"I think the fact that we're willing to let you walk after you let us make sure you're not mortally wounded is enough to convince you."

The boy seemed to consider this for a moment, then slowly untied the pieces of cloth covering his face. "You'll let me go, and no one will know what happened to me?"

"Only a handful of _us_ know son, just let us check you out and make sure everything's alright." The boy stood as a couple of Sinclair's medical team came in with a stretcher and moved their undercover guy onto it. He looked bad. Lost three limbs, that was going to be hard to cope with granted he survive the evening. Finally the boy nodded.

They led him to the tent his team was setting up just outside the cafeteria. Going through the kitchen to get to the doors out probably wasn't the best thing for the food there, but they were trying to keep Brent out of sight of everyone else. They had been dispatched to take care of their own and the boy and to be as inconspicuous as possible. They'd gotten there quick, but the quick heads up from Lowan had helped them with that. They'd arrived just moments before watching the green-glowing man blast out of the roof and flee the scene.

They led Brent into the tent and motioned to a medical table for him to lie down on. "Just try to relax and we'll get you checked out. I saw the dried blood that seems to have come from the back of the head but I'm checking out this burn on your chest here first. You didn't have a concussion, that or your eyes are good at hiding that." He smirked through the clear helmet. He felt like a HAZMAT worker, though he was getting paid much much more. He held up a device that measures radiation levels to Brent's chest, making note of the higher than normal level. It wasn't dangerous, just not the normal level. He then brought the device up towards Brent's face, seeing no change. He then lowered it across Brent's body all the way down to his feet, still seeing no change.

As he noted the high level of radiation on a clipboard he turned his attention back at easing Brent's potential worries. "You're alive," he said with a weak laugh. "But really, it's a miracle you're alive. You obviously took a blow to the chest of radiation, but it didn't put a hole through you like it did everyone else." He remembered back to their guy and also the bodies laying out in the hallways outside the cafeteria. He didn't get a good look at them from where they were but he could tell it was damaging. "Do you think that maybe he wasn't trying to kill you?"

"He told me yesterday I was going to die," Brent explained. "And when I confronted him he realized who I was and asked why I wasn't dead. So no, I am pretty sure he wanted me dead." Sinclair nodded.

"What about the back of your head, eh? Let's have a look." Brent rolled over onto his stomach. He was cooperating well. Either Brent sensed his sincerity or felt he had no other choice one, but whichever worked. "Looks like you took quite a hit there, but it's scabbed over already. I would just be mindful of it and keep some medicine on it. Looks like it will be alright though."

Sinclair then turned over to a table of supplies and picked up an empty syringe. "What's that for?" Sinclair turned to see Brent had already turned around and was watching him closely.

"I'm going to take a blood sample. As you are probably aware the chemical had a great deal to do with your current situation. We have to make sure your situation is finished progressing."

"Progressing?"

"We're just making sure you're alright. We think you are but I'm sure you can agree that being sure is definitely a good idea." Brent nodded as he stuck out his arm. Sinclair dabbed some alcohol on Brent's skin then inserted the needle directly into a vein, quickly getting a good amount of blood to go back to the lab. "All done. Just step over there and they can help you in a thorough cleanup, then you will be released to join the rest of the students out front."

...

"Thorough cleanup?" Brent wondered out loud as he was led to what looked like an outdoor shower. Before he could even flinch the medical staff that were leading him there had turned and stripped him naked before God and everybody and quickly corralled him into the makeshift shower. Right when he was in the three drapes with a shower head coming over one of the tops he was hit with what smelled like rubbing alcohol. After a good dousing in the stuff he could feel a difference; it'd turned to water. He quickly took advantage of the water and began washing the dried blood from his hair, neck and shoulders. After a few moments of this process the water stopped. As soon as it did the drapes fell and more medical people in hazmat gear approached with large leaf blower like machines. When started the machines were noisy, but the air coming from them was warm and welcomed by Brent, who was starting to get cold. Fall was about to begin and the temperatures outside were less than warm and coupling that with the water was only making it worse.

Once they were satisfied with their drying job one handed Brent his boxers and pants. "Get dressed."

'Don't have to tell me twice,' he thought as he quickly clothed himself again. 'I mean yea you have all seen me now, no problem.' He thought it was weird but figured the sanitation was necessary. The drying was too. But still, couldn't they have let him do it himself? He was grateful for their concern and all, but it'd all happened so fast….

That was the other thing; answers. Why couldn't he have any? Was he not entitled to them? This was happening to him, not any of them after all. Part of Brent wanted to demand he receive the answers he longed for, but his brain got in the way. The school was probably surrounded. No escape. He had to comply or risk ticking them off to the point of enacting force. He was too young to be a fugitive!

"Here." Brent recognized the voice as the one coming to the man who'd been talking to him since they got him out of the school. The man was handing Brent his battered, useless shirt. He didn't understand for a moment, but then it made sense. Everyone had seen him get messed up, he had to have the shirt. On would be preferable, since the people from the office may recognize him without it on. He took the shirt from him and put it on the best he could as they walked him to the edge of the tent. "Now go back in the way we came out, tell them you tried to go get help."

The tent was going down practically around him, so even if he did want to stay with them there would be no them momentarily. Brent followed the instruction, still frustrated that he had no clue what was going on, and went back into the school to find the rescue workers.

...

"Dr. Lowan, I have the blood sample. We are packing up here and coming straight back."

"Good Sinclair, remember that no one is to know you have that blood sample. I want it in my hands and no one else's."

"Yes sir." Sinclair hung up as he watched his team finish the last bit of packing up. It would be a long drive back to Atlanta knowing that boy could possibly be dangerous for himself and those around him. He just hoped the situation was under control, and if it wasn't that it would be placed into control quickly.

...

"Brent!"

Brent looked around in the crowd of people standing behind yellow tape a block away from the school. He'd found the rescue teams and been escorted to an ambulance, which he should have known would happen. They gave him a thumbs up after checking some things out, which was a relief, so now he was heading to the "safe" zone. He spotted his mother and sister straight in front of him about mid crowd. He crossed the tape and forcefully pushed his way through the tight crowd. His mom scooped him into her hold as soon as she could touch him.

"I was so worried, oh my gosh are you alright? You're beat up."

"I'm fine mom, I checked out fine." He felt his sister cling to his leg. He smiled and reached down to give her a pat on the head. "I'm alright, can we go home now?"

...

"Where did I screw up?" Curtis asked himself quietly. He was scared someone would hear him even though the thought was ridiculous. Doesn't hurt to be safe, right? Lying on the top of a building in the city of Cumming wasn't the best cover was it? It was all he had though. His house was gone and the cops were looking for him. How had he gotten screwed over so bad?

He looked down at his chest. He'd pulled his shirt and jeans off after getting there, hoping the injuries weren't as bad as they felt. The one on his chest was beginning to become more painful with each heart beat. Brent had knocked the wind clean out of him. It caused him to panic, which was his vital mistake. Panicking was not the way to deal with stuff, but he had been taken off guard. How was he supposed to know Brent would react in such a way? How did he act in such a way? Brent seemed to be so much faster than anything Curtis had ever seen. Was it possible? And what was that strand spider web like junk he'd shot at him? It'd dissolved off his shirt within a couple hours but when it was fresh it had been indestructible. He leaned up and looked down at the black and purple fist shaped bruise that had already formed on his right thigh. It was possible.

"I'll catch _him_ off guard next time. I know what he's capable of now. Next time he will see what I am capable of when I have the advantage." But Curtis didn't know where he was or where he lived. He sighed as he looked up at the darkening sky. Maybe he could find him…. Pigeon Forge right? That was where he was going? Yes, Curtis could catch him majorly off guard there. Curtis knew where that was and the ropes on what was around there. He could go there, wait for Brent and attack. Who expects to get attacked by someone from home on an out of state vacation?

...

"Are you sure you're alright?" Brent sighed, but made sure the phone wasn't where Mark could hear it on the other side.

"Yes Mark, I'm sure. They checked me out. All is well."

"I hope so man, from what I heard you took quite a hit. Everyone thought you were dead. But I also heard you showed that guy."

"Yea, I'm not sure how I did that but it seemed I did."

"You're an international hero. I just saw the story on one of those national news networks, they're calling you Spider-Man."

"Spider-Man?"

"Yea, they found some type of web stuff on the scene the witnesses said you shot from your wrists. Guess you figured out what that was."

"Yea, but that is weird. I dunno Mark, I have way too much on my mind right now and I really need to get some rest so I won't be a zombie tomorrow in Tennessee."

"You're still going?"

"I had to argue with the rents for a while to convince them I was well enough to go. They finally caved and said ok. I mostly want to get out of this town for a couple of days. Hopefully they'll catch Curtis this weekend so I won't have to worry about him anymore."

"Yea man I hope so, that was insane at school. I probably would have wet myself and cried if I had that lunch block. I almost did anyway when I heard all the stuff going on and the fire alarm went off. I was looking everywhere for a short person I could pick up and use as a human shield."

"I bet you were, but Mark I need to sleep. I'm tired. I mean I only didn't sleep last night at all and got in a fight with a radioactive lunatic today."

"Yea sorry, get some rest and hit me up when you get home Sunday evening. See you."

"Bye."

Brent hung the phone up at his bedside and curled up in his bed. The day had been long, hard. Going on this mini vacation would be good for him, right? Take his mind off things. It couldn't have come at a better time.

...

"This is remarkable." Dr. Lowan stood in his personal lab looking at the blood sample taken from Brent that evening. He was impressed at what he was seeing. The boy had resisted the radiation Curtis had fired into his chest because of the chemical. He'd forgotten it was slightly radiated to help trigger the mutation. But the boy's DNA was more astounding. Everything had worked. Lowan couldn't explain how it worked, but it did. It did far beyond their original hopes for the chemical. After all these years there was finally a success. Lowan's chemical. His creation.

"But it must be stopped. The program is a failure, one success does not deem it a success." As sad as he was to do so, he knew he had to dump the blood sample. So close yet so far from succeeding. He watched as the blood dripped down his sink.

"Dr. Lowan." Lowan turned as the last of the blood was in the sink. Justin. He quickly turned on the water and acted like he was washing up. "You should have notified me on the situation. I am in charge of all the projects now, remember?"

"I do Justin, but do you remember that I still have my ranking and authority to call the shots in containment situations?"

"First of all, in all things involving these projects you will refer to me as Mr. Barringer. Second, I should still be notified. My project, my information."

Dr. Lowan took a step forward. "I would suggest you get out of my lab _Mr. Barringer_. I don't care if the board made you God, you have no clue what you're dealing with. If my teams are dispatched I will call the shots and the people that need to know will know."

"Who is he?" The question came after a moment of silence. Justin felt it broke the tension well. "The boy, not the one that went crazy but the other one. The one that fought him off. I need a name."

"That is classified, and unless I am mistaken you do not have access to that level of documentation. Now _please_ get out of my lab _Mr. Barringer._"

"You may think you've got this figured out, Lowan, but I will know who he is soon. He belongs to the government now, and you know it. You can't hide him forever." Justin turned and walked out. Lowan released a sigh of relief. He realized at that point the importance of keeping Brent's identity out of the limelight. Justin may be the head of the department, but he obviously didn't have the clearance to know everything yet. Yet.


	8. Becoming the Hero

"How are you feeling son?" Brent's eyes slowly opened his eyes. The light was on so they were having issues adjusting, but finally Brent's mom's figure focused over him.

"I feel…." He paused for a moment. What did he really feel? Annoyed that he was being woken up for sure. He stretched and let out a lazy groan. "Fine," he finally said. He looked down at his chest; the redness was gone. Completely gone. Weird. He felt the back of his head. There was still a scab, but no dull pain. No soreness. No swelling. How was this possible?

"We're leaving soon. Get up and get packed."

...

Sunrise already? Seriously? Curtis needed to go. He'd slept much longer than he hoped he would. He had lost valuable time. He had to leave. But wait, his clothes…. He would be easily picked out by everyone. He was sure there was a description out there of what he's wearing, and of him. A hoodie maybe? Yes, he could keep his face concealed that way. Staying warm in the elevated climate was a concern too.

Curtis peered over the edge of the building and found that he was in luck. Someone was walking by, and wearing a grey hoodie no doubt. Perfect opportunity to get new threads. Curtis slowly floated down from his spot on the roof behind the man. The man was staring down at the sidewalk as if he was just screaming for a good kick, so Curtis delivered. A well placed hard kick in the back of the man's head put him on the ground nicely. Curtis lowered himself a bit more, pulled the hoodie off the man, then shot off into the air. He could fly pretty fast, so he figured it wouldn't take him too long to get to Pigeon Forge. As he slipped on the hoodie he sped up his flight. It would be light soon and he didn't want to be anywhere near Cumming when that happened.

...

"He did what?" Not the best way to start his weekend. Not at all. Dr. Lowan sighed as he leaned back in his chair.

"He got Doctor Smith out of the high security ward of the mental hospital."

"Why?"

"Sir, why do you think? To finish his project." Dr. Lowan's assistant was right, it wasn't a very intelligent question to ask.

"I'm sorry Charles, this just isn't a good way to start the day. Thank you for the heads up." Charles left the room, leaving Dr. Lowan to himself. Could he reverse what had been done? Smith was a murderer and emotionally unstable. His freedom was a threat to the safety of a lot of people. Was Justin really going to play that game?

...

"Wake up." Brent's eyes slowly opened to the figure of his father turned around in driver's seat. "We're here." Brent sat up from his slumber and looked out the windshield. They were parked in front of a hotel. There already? Brent stretched.

"Holy cow that went by fast," he muttered.

...

"My face is getting so numb," Curtis mumbled as he soared through the sky. He had tried to take a route that was the least visible. Being seen wasn't an option. He was coming up on Pigeon Forge; he could see it up ahead. He started dropping altitude rapidly. He needed to keep himself out of sight. The most reasonable thing he could think to do was to land outside the city and walk in.

"Here." He gently landed on his feet in the woods just outside the city. The mountain air was considerably colder than he was used to at this point. His face started to tingle as his nerve endings sparked back to life from being frozen into submission by the flight. "This town isn't small, I hope I can find Brent quickly."

...

"We're going to take your sister around to do some kid rides," his mom said as she handed him some cash. "We figured you're old enough to go out on your own and be able to do your own thing."

Brent smirked. They were trusting him further. He'd never done anything that would cause him to be untrustworthy, but he was still young. It was a monumental moment for him. He took the money and placed it in his pocket with a smile.

"We'll see you tonight." He nodded. At first he didn't get up from the end of the bed. What would he do? Where would he go? Best way to figure it out was to just go.

Once on the sidewalk he considered his options. There were a ton of arcades, plenty of go-karts, and even small amusement parks. He was still too groggy to think about most of that, so he figured a good long walk would suffice for the time being. Time to think was needed too. So much had happened over the past week and this was the first real time he had to himself.

Brent allowed the thoughts to flood his mind. The first thought to really hit him was the name that had been given to him; Spider-Man. Was that accurate? Apparently. He did, after all, shoot spider webs from his wrist. Sticking to ceilings wasn't exactly considered normal either, was it? Was he a hero now? No, not just a hero, a super hero? It was kind of weird, a fifteen year old average boy a super hero? He hadn't asked for this. He'd never asked for it actually. Not once in his life did he ever want to be anything more, at least not at this caliber. How often did this happen to people? Never. Was he seriously the first super hero?

Wait, was he taking it too fast? Super hero? He was just a kid. Would he seriously be that? A super hero? Could he do it? No. He had to lay low. Fifteen was way too young to bear the burden. Brent hadn't had many burdens yet, but this one would surely take the cake.

He suddenly recalled his pastor. 'We must use our gifts, our talents, and even our curses.' The wording was clear, _must._ Not should, not can, must. The question for Brent now was clear; was this a _gift_ or a _curse_?

...

There he was. How lucky could Curtis be? Pretty lucky obviously. There was Brent, all alone, walking down the sidewalk. Curtis couldn't believe his eyes. He'd not been there long and already found his mark. Brent's death was close now, but how would he do it? He hadn't thought that part through yet. If blasting him didn't kill him, what was Curtis going to do? Blast him more? That would have to work. He needed a plan this time though. Brent had taken him by surprise before, this time he needed the upper hand going into the situation. He needed a distraction to keep Brent's attention so he could ready a full attack. Brent would be going down this time, period.

...

Brent's thoughts were only bringing about more thoughts, or looping back around and revisiting thoughts he thought he'd thought out completely. Was he going to let himself drive himself crazy? No, he needed to get his mind off things. Thinking it out was needed, but Brent was realizing he needed to break the thinking into pieces so he could make sense over it all. He spotted one of the small amusement parks that are scattered through the city ahead. He could see the tall ride going, they called it the Sky Scraper. Brent never understood the fun in being fastened into a cage at the end of a long needle and be twirled vertically through the air over and over, but that was just his opinion.

He approached the fence separating the sidewalk from the small kid park. The Sky Scraper was definitely the only form of entertainment meant for anyone above the age of eight, but it was definitely not something Brent was interested in. Heights weren't his thing, and being secured into something while going high into the sky like that didn't look fun. Brent leaned across the rail and rested his arms on the top of it to watch the next pair be buckled in. It was a couple, probably a little older than him. He smirked as the boy teased his girlfriend as the ride attendant secured their buckles. "It's gonna break," he said with a smile as he looked into her frightened face. "It's gonna throw us up into the air and we're gonna come crashing down and the only thing between us and the ground is the little cage."

"Stop it!" the girl cried as she playfully smacked him on the shoulder. "You know I'm freaked out as it is."

He laughed it off. "Sorry, you just make it too easy sometimes." The attendant pulled down the metal cage and secured the locking mechanism. It was about time to launch. Brent took a step back and looked up, trying to judge the place above him it would be coming by at.

"Oh gosh oh gosh." He could hear the girl in the cage having a slight panic attack as the ride started up. It was a progressive thing, at first it only went a few feet and started very slowly. After a minute it would building in a flipping spinning experience unique to any other ride. Brent figured the screams would really be coming at that point. A smile came across his face. For some reason he wanted to stick around and listen to their reactions to the ride.

...

'He stopped,' Curtis thought as he ducked out of the line of sight of Brent. He was looking at some ride a couple were getting on. Was he sticking around for it? Apparently. Perfect. Time to plan a, well, plan. Curtis began to brainstorm. What could he do to distract Brent? Brent seemed to be concentrating hard on the ride. A thought then crossed Curtis' mind; would Brent try to save the two on the ride if they were in danger? He probably would….

He watched the ride spin faster. It was perfect, he could blast the needle holding the people onto the ride and let them be thrown. Brent would surely try to save them, right? It was worth a shot, and what did Curtis have to lose? He watched the ride intently, internalizing the timing. Up, down, up, down, there. Curtis fired a wave of radiation and watched gleefully as it caught its target on the upshift, which broke the cage with the couple in it and sent it flying straight up into the air. He had even hit it at the exact right time too. Priceless.

...

Brent watched and listened to the consistent screams. It was almost annoying, that girl wouldn't shut up. He sighed and looked down to see who would be boarding next when he heard a cracking noise. When he looked up he couldn't believe what he saw; the cage had separated from the needle somehow at just the right time to throw it straight into the air. Now what? Brent had no clue what to do, if anything. That young couple was hurling freely through the air that very second. Without even thinking it through Brent reacted.

'Use my gifts and curses, eh God?' he thought as he quickly pulled his shirt off and tied it around the bottom half of his face. 'I hope you're real freaking happy now.' Brent jumped up and over the fence, sprinted through the crowd of people looking up at the free flying cage and jumped straight up right under where he figured it would he coming down. 'Now what.' He knew he couldn't just tackle it on his own. Well, he didn't know that, but considering he was going up fast from his jump he needed to decide something and decide it right then. He had nothing to lose, right?

He fired a web line onto the side of a building beside the open area for the rides, and another on the other side. This halted his ascent, but now he needed a free hand. He pulled on the webbing, hoping it was strong. He hadn't been able to experiment with it up till then and he hoped it would be strong enough for the plan that was unraveling in his head. After he pulled the two lines together he brought them together in both hands and applied a lot of pressure. To his pleasure they stuck to each other, forming a single strand all the way across. 'Awesome, now I can use my other hand.' The cage was coming in fast, too fast really. Brent reached out in faith, believing he could accomplish this.

He grabbed and gripped the cage as it came down across him, almost hitting him directly. "Hunghh!" he grunted as the weight mixed with the velocity of the descent pulled against his arms. He held on to the web line for dear life with one hand and the cage in the other, eventually erupting into a terrible scream of pain and frustration as the cage stopped falling. As it neared the rebound point of the descent the cage then started making another ascent. Brent wished he hadn't tried this this way, or that he hadn't used himself as a middle man.

As the cage met its top point going back up Brent released another frustrated grunt, completely ignoring the annoying screams from the people inside. After the rubber band effect finally halted and left Brent hanging there with the cage motionless he let out a sigh of relief. He dropped the cage and quickly hit it again with another web line, with which he slowly lowered the cage to the ground. The sound of clapping and cheers filled the air. For a moment it felt good, but only for a moment. Brent had been so caught up in everything he hadn't noticed until it was too late that his mind was screaming at him. Danger. He turned to face the sidewalk again when he quickly realized this hadn't been his best idea.

Curtis flew straight into him, snapped him straight off the web line he was hanging from, flew him a couple feet into the air and then plummeted with him in hand. Brent didn't even know what to do really. It'd happened so fast, and the height Curtis had taken him was a huge factor. As they neared the ground in what felt like a game of chicken with the asphalt Curtis let go of Brent and stopped himself from hitting the ground, allowing Brent to impact the ground at a high velocity and with a lot of force. The pain was tremendous, but not unbearable. Brent slowly turned to face Curtis, who was hovering a few feet from Brent. "I couldn't get you back at the school, but I guess this will have to suffice. It's been fun, Brent, really, but your part of the fun ends now."


	9. Pain is the Name of the Game

Brent slowly lifted himself out of the ground. How far had he gone through the asphalt? A good eight inches? Shouldn't every bone in his body be shattered? He tasted blood, which was never good. How had he allowed Curtis to get the jump on him? He had ignored the feeling of danger; that was obviously not a good idea. "Curtis, why the heck did you follow me here?"

"Follow you? I knew you were coming here so I just came and found you. Now I'm gonna kill you."

Brent stood up. "Curtis, you couldn't do it before, what makes you think you can do it now?"

"Look around you, I'm not closed in this time." He was right. Their first encounter had been in a cramped office. Brent had the advantage. Physical strength was nothing unless he could get his hands on his target, but at a distance Curtis could flail radiation all day and keep a safe distance and never worry about being hurt. This was a problem for Brent, a big one.

"Can't fight me like a man then?" Brent's words were hopeful thinking. He needed Curtis close, close enough to punch. It was obvious he didn't have any strength, so Brent could hopefully knock him out quickly. That was, of course, if Curtis didn't blast him into next week first.

Curtis bolted at Brent without warning. He must have been waiting for Brent to stand, which made sense. You can't air tackle someone who's eight inches into the ground. He was coming at Brent rapidly, but Brent was ready. As much as it pained him he managed to jump into the air and allowed Curtis to pass under him. Curtis quickly stopped and turned in time to come at Brent again as he landed. "You little bitch!" Curtis yelled as he flew full speed ahead at Brent. Brent seized the opportunity.

As Curtis neared him Brent fell backwards to the ground, hitting shoulders first and tucking his legs against him. As Curtis passed over him Brent thrusted his feet up, landing a solid hit on Curtis' chest. Curtis' flight path was vastly altered. He flew straight up into the air while heaving for air. Obviously the last time Brent knocked the wind out of him hadn't broken him in to the feeling. "Bastard," he yelled in a ghaspy voice as he heaved for air. "I'm going to beat the shit out of you now."

Brent flipped up and sighed. He shot a bit of webbing, hitting a bullseye right on Curtis' mouth. "Do you kiss your mom with that mouth Curtis?" Curtis was about to freak out. It was obvious regaining your breath was difficult when only using your nose. His face began to glow green as Brent watched the webbing on his mouth dissolve. 'Great,' he thought. 'He's going to end up turning this place into a nuclear war zone. I need to stop him before he regains himself.'

Brent jumped into the air at Curtis. He wasn't sure how high or far he could jump yet, but he figured finding out wasn't a bad idea. To his surprise he was going straight for Curtis with quite a velocity, however Curtis noticed and moved to the side, still heaving and trying to regain his breath. As Brent passed him he fired web lines at Curtis, each one attaching to one of his feet. Curtis was finally regaining himself and able to make a somewhat intelligent decision. He quickly began to fly again, maintaining his height of about sixty feet and dragging Brent behind him.

"You know Brent," he said, his voice sounding normal again, "I think I was wrong about you. You aren't going to be the easiest one on my list, I give you props for that. That takes mad skill, because I know a few rough riders, but you have now definitely taken the top of the list. I have no idea what has happened to you or why you can suddenly kick my ass, but trust me when I say it ends here." Curtis suddenly dropped altitude quickly. His course was leading straight to a building, some kind of shop right off the main road. Brent held on, not thinking Curtis would fly through the building. He was completely right, but wrong in his thought that that meant he wasn't going to. Right at the last minute Curtis shot up and stopped, leaving Brent still in a forward motion. Just before Brent reached the end of the web lines that allowed him to hitch his ride Curtis flared up the radiation in his feet, dissolving the connection. Brent dove head first into the building.

Pain was already very much so present in Brent's body; he knew by this point that his little super hero package hadn't come with invulnerability. He could certainly take a much larger beating, but he wasn't Superman. He had physical limitations, and he was beginning to hate that factor. As he crashed into the tile floor of the store, bounced up, tumbled through a clothing rack, busted through a glass display case, and finally came to rest upside down with his back indented into a wall the only thought he could maintain was "ouch."

Before he even had a chance to move green balls of radiation started raining down into the store through the ceiling. The unsuspecting tourists in the shop ran for the exits screaming. Brent completely understood their desire to scream, but couldn't they hold it in until they got outside? His head was already pounding. He slowly stood to his feet as he watched the building begin to crumble under the extreme structural damage. Sticking around for the fall wasn't an option.

Brent stumbled to a hole that was made by Curtis and jumped up through it. He landed ungracefully on the roof and stumbled a couple of steps before he saw Curtis hovering over the building. Was this all seriously happening? Brent was having trouble comprehending the reality around him. It had to stop.

"I'm the one you want, not them. Stop firing around!" Brent's weight shifted as the building creaked and leaned a little. Taking this as a hint to move off, Brent jumped from it to the next building. How was he going to stop Curtis' pointless rampage? He needed to be up close and personal, but that was not going to be easy. Brent started running towards Curtis, ready to launch himself at Curtis again when he had to jump to the side to miss being hit by a ball of radiation. He quickly realized that this was the first of many in a volley Curtis was firing at him. As he ran Curtis kept the shots going, not easing up off the pressure on Brent at all.

As Brent ran across the roof of the building he could feel it shifting. "I can do this all day, but I'm willing to bet you can't," Curtis called down to Brent. He lowered himself down to street level and shot through the building a solid beam of radiation. Brent jumped straight up as the building collapsed, hoping to find something to branch from with some webbing. A quick survey of the area left Brent at a loss. He was falling, and certainly going to land in the rubble below. He could imagine a thousand piercing and jabbing things waiting for him down there in the cloud of dust. Just as he had accepted this fate he was suddenly hit in the back by a burning sensation, but the burning sensation had some blunt force behind it. He starting flying through the air, now registering the pain that this burning blunt force had caused.

'I can't keep going on like this,' Brent thought as he spiraled through the air. His entire body was pretty much in pain, with some parts experiencing multiple kinds of pain. Between scratches and bruises and now apparently burns Brent could keep an emergency room hopping like there was no tomorrow. He wasn't feeling very heroic at this point either. How many innocent people died in their fight? How many more would die in the conflict?

Brent felt another forceful blast of radiation hit him in the stomach as he was spinning through the air. This blast sent him flying even faster than the last, almost like it had been aimed to throw him in a particular direction. A grunt of pain escaped his lips as he went feet first through the ceiling of a building. He hadn't even seen what building it was in the chaos, but a strange but familiar smell filled his nostrils. Was it a costume store? Weird. He felt himself plowing through what was probably clothing racks before meeting a wall. His sudden stop was jolting and painful, but certainly welcomed. He had a moment to compose himself. He had been disadvantaged from the start. He decided the fight was going to go to Curtis right then.

Curtis fired his random shots into the store just as he had with the first, however this time Brent was ready. As the ceiling opened up above him like a sun roof due to the holes Curtis was placing in it Brent picked up an empty shopping cart. Destruction of private property certainly wasn't his goal, but he figured this would be better than allowing more innocent deaths. He held the cart in one hand and spun a full three hundred and sixty degrees. As the circle completed Brent released the cart, which was aimed to exit the building through a hole in the ceiling and strike Curtis. A smile came across Brent's face as he watched the cart fly through the air faster than he could have ever hoped and struck Curtis directly in the center of his body. Brent could not see the fate of Curtis from where he was, but that didn't matter; the building was coming down around him.

Before he could escape the building crumbled. Luckily for Brent the ceiling was certainly not that heavy to him and all of the screaming people in the store at the time had cleared the area. The ceiling did, however, have enough to knock Brent flat on the floor. Not so lucky for Brent was the dust that plumed and caused breathing to be a difficult task. Brent tried his hardest to breath slowly to try and not suck in so much of the dust, but he was simply way too exhausted and out of breath to maintain such a low amount of air intake. His lungs burned as the dust settled in them, but it was much better than suffocating. The weight of a ceiling and roof on him wasn't his main concern, it was getting out from under it before he did in fact suffocate that was.

Brent wasn't going to lie to himself; he was pretty tired. Exhausted. Ready to lay down and take a long nap. Something for sure, he wasn't used to this at all. He had the strength and endurance for it, but his mind was so tired of thinking through fighting. Fifteen year olds shouldn't have to think through fighting for their lives with a radioactive crazy person, that kind of stuff just doesn't happen and they certainly don't teach you how in school. With a grunt Brent pushed on the debris that was pinning him. It slowly but surely started to lift. He was straining, almost yelling as he lifted it, proving to him that he was still indeed human and not infinitely powerful. This was important to him and actually a comfort at this point, considering he'd thought up until then he was so far gone from humanity that he wouldn't even be able to be called a person. Freaks had a hard time finding dates to dances.

Finally, after much effort Brent was able to lift and move the debris off of himself. He slowly stood up and coughed, hoping some of the dust would be expelled from his lungs. Surveying the rubble he noticed no one was close, which was a good thing. It was still dusty, but a lot of it had settled. In the rubble he could see a lot of the inventory lying in the rubble. A black and gray costume caught his attention. He slowly walked over to it, lifted a piece of roof off of a portion of the costume, then picked it up. It was mainly black with some gray highlights under the arms going down to the thighs. The whole thing was lined with spider web patterns. It had a separate piece that tied on to give it two extra sets of legs; a spider costume. The mask was all black and had two glass eyes that could be seen through from the inside but not in from the outside. The whole thing was full body and made of a spandex like material. 'Can't keep busting off the shirt and tying it around my face every time I go into hero mode,' he thought as he pulled out some of the money his mother had given him and placed it where the costume had been, leaving behind the goofy leg attachment. 'This would be more appropriate.' A full mask, his body would be covered, and he would be identifiable, what more did he want?

He decided to get out of there before authorities started coming and asking questions. Curtis wasn't in site so Brent figured he needed to disappear too. He looked through the haziness and saw the forest line. Perfect. Brent took off running as fast as he could into the woods, not looking back. His energy tanks were definitely on empty but he knew he had to get as far away as possible. He may have been the hero, but the damage that had occurred was obvious and someone had to be blamed.

Brent trekked through the woods a good ways off from the city, hoping to swing around and somehow cross the street to get to the other side where his hotel was. He untied his shirt in the back, quickly realizing it hadn't lasted well for him. Apparently huge fights tore through clothes, great. Stupendous. There wasn't a clothing tree in the back yard. Oh well.

He reached the street just as he slipped the shirt over his head. How would he cross it? No one could see him, and by the looks of it there was a steady flow of traffic. Brent looked up and smacked himself in the forehead. The trees, duh. He approached the nearest tree and placed a hand around it, then reached up higher with the other. With a foot placed firmly on the tree about two feet up he pulled himself up, feeling an ease in the climbing. Not only were his muscles working together perfectly to climb, but his hands and feet were somehow sticking to the bark.

He climbed to about a hundred feet high, feeling such height was needed to make the jump across unnoticed. He looked across the road to the trees over there, picking out his target. Very carefully he positioned himself on the side of the tree in a crouching position to get the most spring from the jump. After a moment of wondering how he had gotten to this point in half a week he jumped. Brent cleared the gap easily and found himself worrying he may have jumped with too much force. As the tree approached he reached out, hoping to dull the impact with his arms. To his surprise he took the impact well, only feeling pain in already sore areas. His hands hit the trees, bent, and allowed him to swing his legs around and onto the tree. He then dropped from the tree and shot a web line towards the top, creating a bungee effect. At the lowest point to the ground, probably five feet or so up, Brent let go of the web line and gently dropped to the ground.

After a few more minutes of running Brent found his way back to the hotel. He entered his room, thankful he'd made it, and locked the door behind him. As he laid down in his bed he shoved the costume under it for safe keeping. Before he knew it he was sound asleep.


	10. Life Defining Moments

Lowan watched the scene unfolding on the television screen. This wasn't local news, it was _national_. He couldn't believe what he was watching; Curtis was flying rampantly through Pigeon Forge, Tennessee destroying buildings trying to kill Brent. How had he gotten up there? And why were they there? And why wasn't it contained yet? The footage cut out after a shopping cart sprouted from a building's roof as the building collapsed, striking Curtis and sending him off the camera. Convenient time to cut off; not.

"_The battery in the camcorder died before it could pick up where these unidentified people made off to, however one thing can be certain from this amateur footage; the super-human beings that were sighted in Georgia just yesterday seemed to have set up shop here in Tennessee to continue their fight over who knows what."_

"This is ridiculous!" Lowan screamed at the screen.

"Indeed it is Doctor." Justin walked into Lowan's office. Lowan noted the smile on his face. "If you would have told me who this boy was this wouldn't be happening. Care to inform me now?"

"Get the hell out of my office, I'm dealing with it."

"Dealing with it? Lowan, do you know how many people died? That lunatic is out there chasing down 'Spider-Man' for some unknown reason and you think it's perfectly fine to leave him out there?"

"The boy isn't the problem Justin, it's Curtis. I'm pretty sure I wanted you out of my office. Taking over the project doesn't rank you higher than me."

"You will wish you had let me in on this," Justin said as he turned to leave. "It may not be soon, but one day you will wish you had let me do my job."

...

How had he screwed up this time? How? Curtis had the edge. The element of surprise was his, the distance was his. He had Brent running for his life didn't he? It wasn't hard really. Brent could seriously jump high, that wasn't expected. But minus that detail, what had happened? Curtis had a weakness somewhere, what was it? Was it that he wasn't able to endure the hits? He thought back to the shopping cart striking him in the torso and the pain that had been caused along with the panic, loss of balance and eventual retreat. Retreat couldn't be an option anymore.

Curtis slowly sat up. He'd fled into the mountains to get some cover and hopefully not be followed. The injuries he'd sustained were starting to hurt a bit, but he mentally got past it. Looking down at his bare torso caused him to sigh; he'd taken off his hoody and shirt to examine the damage prior to lying down on the cool fall ground. Two distinct bruises were already formed where Brent had kicking him in the chest as he'd flown over. Another one was starting to form on his stomach, the main place of contact when the cart hit him. He'd wanted to puke when it happened so bad but held it back. One thing he wanted to know though was why he'd gotten the breath knocked out of him twice in a row? That was ridiculous beyond belief. Shouldn't have allowed that to happen in the first place, much less the second time.

What was he going to do in the wake of his defeat? Was he defeated? Surely. The building may have fallen in, but Brent was apparently still very alive and well enough to throw a shopping cart at him, so assuming he'd died in the collapse was a fatal mistake. Brent was different, he'd changed. He was strong, fast, and extremely dangerous in a fight. Well, a fair fight, Curtis had proven Brent could be distracted and then taken advantage of. Could Curtis harvest this in a new assault and overcome Brent? Maybe in more closed quarters, but not so closed that Brent could take down Curtis easily. Hostages seemed to get Brent's attention. Where could this be executed? And how would Brent's attention be gotten?

Curtis stood as he put his shirt and hoody back on, shivering slightly from the cold air and deciding it was time to act. Couldn't let Brent rest too much, even if he needed the rest more than Brent probably did. He could feel the pain in his chest and stomach every time he moved, but the desire to finally kill Brent drove him to overcome it. Pigeon Forge was no longer an option, that place was definitely crawling with cops looking for him. He needed someplace untouched yet, but close, and a way to get Brent's attention so he'd actually go there. Gatlinburg was close by, right? Yes, yes that would work. Curtis lifted into the air, flew up to such a height that he could see over the mountains, and pinpointed Gatlinburg. "Here I come."

...

"Rogers, I am hoping you've seen the news."

"Sir, we are already getting packed and mobilized. Another team in Tennessee is already on site investigating, we will be there shortly."

"Good to hear, keep me posted." Rogers hung up the phone and looked at his men.

"Alright, listen up ladies, this time we know of the danger we're walking in to. This Curtis guy is highly dangerous. Lewis died this morning, if that's not enough motivation for you to want to take this target down I don't know what is, we all knew Lewis and he was a good man. Don't meet the same fate, if it's Curtis shoot first and ask questions later. I'm briefing you now because once we get into the helicopters it's game time. We're going in fast and hot and going into search mode. We are in danger once we enter a twenty mile radius of ground zero. Once we drop we're going. It will take some time to get there so get yourselves together mentally on the way. Now get in those choppers boys we have a fugitive to hunt."

...

Curtis let out a light sigh as he flew over Gatlinburg. Such a strange place; hardly any parking, crowded, and not even fun looking. Why would anyone want to go on vacation there? Where was the excitement? Curtis could not even imagine having fun in such a place. Shops everywhere? Seriously? You go to Gatlinburg to pay for a hotel so you can shop? What kind of vacation is that?

A building caught Curtis' eye. It was on the other side of the city he was on, but it was large. Blue. What was it? Curtis started zooming in to look. "Ripley's Aquarium," he mumbled as the red letters became legible. "Sounds like the only place worth going to in this dump of a city, might as well make an entrance. Being out in the open for too long will probably attract unwanted attention anyway." He bolted towards the building, not bothering to use the doors but to come through the ceiling instead. The radiation burn around the perfect circle formed when he entered glowed for a moment as he slowly lowered himself into the building.

At first the reactions he got were reactions of confusion. No one knew what to make of him. Of course, if someone just burns through a ceiling with no explanation and is hovering there and watching silently no one would know how to react. Finally he heard a scream, that's right fear him. As the people started making steps towards exits and paths in the building Curtis decided he should act before he lost his opportunity.

With a quick swoop down he was able to isolate and snag a young girl, no older than eight years old. She instantly started screaming at the top of her lungs and Curtis made his ascent back up to almost the ceiling. "Shut up you little wench!" he yelled into her ear. "Shut up or I will drop you from up here. This is a good fifty feet, you will die." The girl whimpered and squirmed.

"Just wait until Spider-Man gets here punk!" Curtis looked down at a man standing below him. What was he talking about? Spider-Man? Did he mean Brent? How cute, Brent had a secret name. Curtis could create some hype from this. People could watch Brent die on the national news, brilliant.

"Too bad you won't be around to see him," Curtis said as he released one hand from the girl to aim it at the guy and release radiation down and to him. The radiation obliterated him on the spot, leaving just a dark spot on the ground. "Wow, I'm getting better at controlling this stuff. Good." Curtis looked around the building, seeing a woman running towards him while everyone else ran away.

"Stacy! Stacy!"

"Mommy!" The little girl's mother? Great, she would have some motivation for getting Curtis what he wanted. He lowered slightly towards her.

"You can have your daughter back once I get someone."

"Who?" What a stupid woman, didn't she watch the news? He didn't, which is why the Spider-Man gig was new to him.

"Spider-Man. Lady this is what I want you to do, go tell all the nice policemen I have your daughter and if she is to live Spider-man must come. Make sure the whole freaking world knows."

The woman took off running towards the exit. Curtis watched as she was the last one to leave, which was what he was waiting for. He started floating around, trying to figure out what to do exactly. He flew into a side door and entered what looked like a lab. A scalpel caught his eye, so he quickly pocketed it. The next thing to catch his attention was the large chart on the wall. Feeding chart? Schedule of feeding performed daily. How hungry were the sharks?

Luck. Curtis had struck gold. It was about shark feeding time. This could easily be made into a very good situation for him. He left the room, girl still in tow. Giving the place a good look over gave Curtis the confidence that he'd chosen the right place. No more defeats for him, he was going to win; just enough enclosure that it would be hard for Brent to hide, but at the same time Curtis could move around and hopefully dodge whatever Brent could throw his way. Of course Curtis desired to do better in this than he'd done in their previous encounter. The key was to wait for him to show up, then execute the attack. He went through his head what exactly would happen. "Well girly, I hope you can swim."

...

A familiar feeling began to trickle into Brent's head. Consciousness? Was consciousness seriously calling him? He rolled over in the bed, groaning. Teenagers were made to sleep, not stay awake! Brent almost verbally yelled but instead kept it in his head as he slowly sat up. Still light outside, what time was it? He looked over at the clock next to the bed; almost four in the afternoon. Great, he could get a shower and go to dinner. Dinner sounded good, at least in the near future. Five definitely wasn't too early for him to eat.

He picked up the remote as he laid his head back down to let himself wake up a bit more. The first channel to pop up was the local weather channel. Clear skies, light winds, high of forty. That sounded about right. Possible know late into the night? Great, what would happen if they got snowed in? Brent quickly changed the channel. He didn't want to be stuck in Pigeon Forge, not with Curtis around. All he could do was hope it didn't snow. The next channel was a local ads channel. What was the point of having televisions in hotel rooms? Brent couldn't wrap his head around the fact that most of what was on the televisions was local commercials trying to get the tourists out to them. It wasn't exactly something Brent found entertaining.

Next channel was news. Great, Brent will get to see if they caught Curtis yet.

"_We are coming to you live from Gatlinburg where the fugitive known as Curtis is holding a young child hostage inside. We have reports from several witnesses that he has already killed one man inside and is now holding a little seven year old girl hostage inside. He told the mother to relay a message for him requesting the presence of Spider-Man. It seems the nasty brawl between Curtis and this Spider-Man that started in a high school in Cumming, Georgia and spread to neighboring Pigeon Forge earlier today has now shifted to the Ripley's Aquarium here in Gatlinburg. Authorities will not comment, but we have seen FBI agents in the area. The thought now comes to mind that this situation could be much more serious than once thought if the government has now become involved in helping disabling Curtis."_

Brent turned the television off. He'd gone too far. Way too far. Curtis overstepped himself long ago, but he was just becoming more and more desperate to see Brent die. What could Brent do to stop it? Catch him this time? Because catching a radioactive person seemed nearly impossible, especially one that could shoot said radiation out of his body. Something had to be done though, and fast. A young girl's life was hanging in the balance and Brent was the one requested, so deliver he must.

Being wide awake now certainly helped the process of reaching under the bed and locating the newly purchased costume with ease. Brent held the costume up to his face. He was about to do it, he was about to go out there and show the world no one messes with him, not even a radioactive high school bully. Well maybe that was getting a bit out there, but still happening. With a groan Brent knew what he had to do.


	11. Fish Food

No hesitance. There could be no hesitance. The life of a child, a young innocent child, was at stake. It wasn't that the lives of all the adults taken by Curtis over the past couple of days weren't important, but they'd been in the crossfire and Brent probably couldn't have saved them. This was different though. Cause and effect. Action and reaction; come to me or this one's blood is on your hands, not mine. Brent recognized this instantly, and recognized that it had to stop then and there, no matter the cost.

Before leaving the hotel he'd slipped the costume on, then his normal clothes on over it. He decided he could use the excuse that he was close to the attack when it happened to cover for the all but destroyed shirt and left it on the bed, replacing it with a fresh one. Brent left the hotel, snuck back behind it into the woods, and there climbed a tree and took his outer clothing back off to reveal the costume.

Spandex was a very different material than he'd dealt with before. Skin tight wasn't really his thing, but he had to admit he looked darn good in it. After slipping on the mask and gloves, and giving a good check to the boots and their ability to absorb the shocks of jumping, Brent went full speed ahead. At this point being seen wasn't a big deal, he was in costume and probably slightly difficult to see in the shadows of the trees. That was what he liked most about the costume, camouflage.

Brent jumped from tree to tree, finding it to be the most effective way of travel in the dense forest. He got a smooth rhythm going and allowed him to grab, spin, and kick off the trees as he went through them. Avoiding the smaller limbs that would potentially hurt if he launched himself through them, Brent found the trees were a decent way to get to where he was going. A car would have been nice, but hey he couldn't drive and he had a feeling traffic wasn't exactly going to be great going into the city. He only hoped he would not be too late.

...

"Boys, we're getting close. I'm getting word that our pal Curtis is held up in an aquarium with a young girl awaiting the arrival of Spider-Man. This means you can stop sucking your thumbs and praying you won't get shot down, but you'd better concentrate that energy on hoping Curtis doesn't snap on the girl inside. We're going to help our Tennessee counterparts create a perimeter and negotiate with Curtis, we have no reason to believe Spider-Man will be coming out because in all instances where they fought Curtis was the catalyzing component, not the spider. Be ready for our descent."

Rogers took the small personal microphone off his mouth and positioned it down lower, closer to his chin. He looked around at his crew that were on the same chopper, smiling at the relief some held in their eyes. They were scared, no doubt, about being shot down on arrival. Hopefully their head would be in the game more now, concentrating on the mission was preferred over hoping they'd actually make it to the mission.

Rogers looked out the window, seeing a clearing ahead. "We're closing in," the pilot called over the intercom.

"This is it boys, be ready for anything. Curtis is inside with a hostage but we've all seen what he can do to someone. He's unpredictable, so don't assume you're safe because there's a wall between you and him." Rogers sighed as the aquarium came into view. A very distinct hole could be seen on the roof, presumably the entry point of Curtis. Just before Rogers looked away a black figure caught his attention. It was on the roof, running towards the hole. Once it got to the hole it jumped in, no equipment or ropes visible. Who the heck was that? Rogers picked up a long-range radio and turned it to the proper channel to contact the agents already on the ground. "This is Commander Rogers, did anyone see who or what that was on the roof just now?"

A crackly voice spoke through. "Commander glad you could make it. We think it was Spider-Man."

...

'Hole in the ceiling, how freaking original Curtis,' Brent thought as he fell through the hole that was obviously burned through the roof to grant Curtis entry into the aquarium. Brent hadn't even been to it, it was relatively new, so he had no idea where he could begin his search. As his body cleared the hole he fired a web line at the ceiling to the side, allowing himself to swing up to and grab hold of the ceiling. After a quick glance around to make sure no green flares of death were coming at him, Brent took in the scenery. From where he was perched he could see the front door area, along with what looked like a fun little lobby with horseshoe crabs in open tanks to be handled by visitors, a gift shop to the side, and a huge tank overlooking where it seemed visitors funneled to go through the exhibits. A walk path ran over another tank, but this tank was much larger than the first one Brent had noticed. From where he was he could see shadows zipping around in the water, sharks maybe? Shivers traveled down Brent's spine at the thought. Sharks were the one thing that kept him out of the ocean.

Crawling across the ceiling quickly towards the walk path that went over the shark tank wasn't what Brent wanted to do, but it was the highest point other than the ceiling that he could get a good look around and unlike the ceiling he hopefully wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb. Once over the path he dropped off the ceiling, turning in mid air and landing on his hands and feet as softly as he could.

"If I hadn't already spotted you I definitely would have heard you, and you look so pathetic in that black underwear," Curtis' voice echoed. Brent turned to face the voice, which to his dismay was coming from over the tank. The scene burned deep into Brent's mind as the scenario unfolded; Curtis was hovering over the shark tank, holding the small girl in his hands. She was being held up by just one of Curtis' arms, which was wrapped around her stomach and came up towards her face where his hand was holding her mouth tightly shut. His other arm was behind his back, which was an instant red flag.

"Let her go Curtis, it's me you want." Brent honed his attention on the scene before him. He needed to concentrate, see what was happening before it happened. No training, just pure ability. It was all Brent had to work with, learning as he went wasn't an option at this point because lives were at stake.

"Why would I let her go Brent? I checked the schedule and it's the shark's dinner time." Curtis' other arm came out from behind his back, revealing a scalpel.

"Curtis, what the heck are you doing?"

"Brent, didn't you ever watch any of those nature shows? Sharks can smell blood from miles away. In case you haven't noticed, the sharks don't have that scenario here. Blood hits the water and they know it." Be brought the scalpel down to the little girl's shin.

"Curtis don't do it! You freaking idiot, she has nothing to do with this!" Brent watched in horror as Curtis slowly gave the girl a cut on her shin with the scalpel as she squirmed and squealed in pain. Blood started dripping down her leg, onto her shoes, and finally into the water below.

"Oops, too late, slipped." Curtis smiled as he looked down into the water and watched the sharks swarming below him. "Do you really want me to put her down, Brent? Really? Alright then."

Brent watched in absolute horror as Curtis let go of the girl, allowing her to plummet into the tank below. Before he could even think Brent was jumping towards the water. He noticed the feeling of danger screaming at him and looked up to see Curtis flying at him at full speed, scalpel pointed forward ready to gut Brent. Brent brought his hands forward, catching the hand with the scalpel and slinging him into the direction Brent had just come from.

Brent hit the water with force, enough force in fact to push him down a good few feet and cause him to be slightly disoriented for a moment. He quickly picked up on the thrashing of the girl, however, and furiously began to swim towards her. A mental note Brent made was the fact that he was swimming with much more ease and endurance than before, which should have been expected but he hadn't put any thought into it. Within seconds he was scooping the girl up and breaking the surface, though the sharks were still swarming around them.

"Hang on," Brent told her as he swam towards the edge of the tank. "Almost there." Just as Brent reached an edge of the tank with a path and put the girl up on it he felt a very sharp pain in his foot. He'd been in danger mode and slow motion mode the whole time and was beginning to get annoyed with his ability to tune it out in inopportune times. He looked back to see a huge tiger shark clamped onto his foot. With a loud grunt he gave it a powerful kick to the head, not holding anything back. The shark promptly let go as it floated up to the top of the tank. Had he killed it? No time to care, he had to get out before the rest of the pack came running.

As Brent pulled himself onto the path he quickly realized he was doing it again, ignoring the screaming "danger" voice in his head. He turned to see Curtis coming at him again, and this time Brent almost has enough time to react. Almost. Just as he went to flip backwards off the path and down into the front lobby area Curtis impacted him, leaving the scalpel in Brent's shoulder as he lifted Brent off the path and hurled him into the ceiling with the sheer force and speed he'd flown into him with. Brent gripped the ceiling, now realizing he may have gotten himself in over his head. He pulled the scalpel painfully from his left shoulder and threw it to the floor.

"Alright Curtis, I'm done playing games with you, me and you right now." Brent winced slightly as the pain from the shark bite started kicking in after the initial adrenaline discharge. He quickly glanced down at it, seeing distinct punctures in his foot and ankle and blood dripping from them. Great. Stabbed in the shoulder, bitten in the foot, what next? Oh, of course. Brent dropped off the ceiling, shot a web line a good ways out in front of him and swung forward on it as a green ball of radiation blasted the ceiling he'd just been on.

Brent honed in on Curtis, who was hovering in the lobby area. As he started swinging back up he shot another web line out, this time at Curtis. The line hit his left thigh, and before he could do anything about it Brent was dropping off the first line and pulling the second as hard as he could. Curtis resisted and started flying up, causing the web line to taunt up and start dragging Brent after him. When he realized this Curtis took full advantage.

Brent watched as Curtis flew right for the side of a large tank, then turned at the last second, causing Brent to run flat into it at full force. The pain wasn't much, not enough to outweigh the benefit of not losing Curtis again. Brent started trying to climb up the web line, wanting desperately to get his hands on Curtis. Just one solid punch in the face would end this insanity, just one. If Brent couldn't deliver it only God knew what would happen in the wake of Curtis' destruction.

Curtis flew full speed into a tunnel that went under the shark tank. Brent saw his opportunity and brought his legs up, waiting for and then acting on the first chance he had to catch the wall and stop the flight of insanity. The second Brent's feet gripped the wall the web line taunted up and Brent could feel Curtis on the end taking a turn into the wall. He quickly released the line and ran towards the curve ahead, seeing Curtis' body sprawled out in the floor.

"Out cold," Brent mumbled as he kneeled down next to him. "Finally it ends."

"For you." The whisper threw up every red flag in Brent's head imaginable, but he was much too close and it was too late to act before it'd even started. Brent's vision was engulfed in green. He felt his body fly back and smack into the wall, followed by a strong and hot heat emitting from the direction he'd just come from. "For you Brent it is the end. I have been waiting way too long for this moment for it to slip away. I'm sure you're dazed and confused, but that doesn't matter. You're mine now."

Brent's vision cleared enough for him to see Curtis raise his fist and forcefully bring it down on Brent's forehead. It was almost comical for a moment really, Brent barely felt it. Curtis kept pummeling Brent with all he had as Brent recovered from the surprise attack. Brent realized his costume hadn't been fried off from the blast, which he appreciated, but still had some damage from the fight here and there. Finally, when Brent was recovered enough to be able to at least move he decided he needed to do that, but not after a little antagonizing.

"You're weak, Curtis. I can't even feel the punches. I'm losing blood, probably about to bleed out, just got fried and yet you still can't hurt me." Curtis screamed as he kept punching and kicking Brent's body, which was slowly standing against the wall. "You couldn't kill me if you wanted to, Curtis."

At that moment Curtis finally completely lost it. Reality had been a far cry from him, but now it wasn't even that. Without thinking, without considering, without adding up the consequences Curtis brought his hands together, took a step back, and fired as much radiation as he knew how at Brent. It probably would have finished Brent off, however Brent had been hoping for him to do something stupid like that. Brent had jumped to the side and taken off running down the tunnel towards the exit, wincing at the pain in his foot. Curtis was confused for a brief moment, but only a brief one; the sounds of water hitting the ground came into focus and reconnected Curtis to reality.

Brent ran as fast as he could get his foot to allow him, which was still faster than he used to run. As he exited the tunnel he quickly jumped up and climbed the wall to the path where the girl had been left. He found her safely ducked down, tears fresh in her eyes. "Come on, we're getting out of here," he told her softly as he picked her up and gazed down at the water that was quickly filling the lobby. With a single jump he made it through the hole in the roof, landing with a grunt and another shot of pain from his foot.

Brent slowly walked over to the edge of the front of the building and dropped down. He put the girl safely down on the ground and jumped back up to the roof, taking off running towards the back and jumping clear across the river that ran behind the building into the woods, hoping to beat his parents back to the hotel and clean up so he wouldn't have as much explaining to do.


	12. Snow Day

Could anyone ever understand what Brent was living? Could anyone alive or dead or to come begin to start to understand the madness? Sure being strong beyond one's wildest imagination and having reflexes and danger senses beyond anything ever known to man was cool, but it was sure coming with its burdens. Brent collapsed into the hotel bed. Six in the evening. He'd gone through hell and took another stroll and then went back through to make sure he hadn't missed any of the scenery, or at least that was what he felt like. His body was sore and broken to say the least, his stomach was screaming for food and he had the reality of him being hunted by a psychopath simmering for quite some time.

Painfully he reached for the remote and turned on the television, hoping to hear some good news about the psychopath. They had to have caught him, right? He was in there when those tanks busted, there was no way he made a clean get away after that. He had to be knocked out or worse after that, there was probably millions of pounds of pressure swirling around in there. No human could survive that.

_Police and federal agents have been working non-stop since the attack to clean up and gather what evidence they could from the scene, but as you can imagine gathering evidence in a flooded building has been difficult and they had to operate alongside wildlife rescue services that arrived very shortly after the attack to try to save as many of the aquarium's residents as possible. The body of Curtis has not been located and the identity of the elusive Spider-Man is still in the dark. He disappeared into the woods after the attack and authorities will not comment on his role in any of Curtis' attacks, though according to eye witnesses from the Georgia attack and the two locally today he was acting to save innocents._

Brent turned off the television. He found it slightly amusing that when he turned it on it was on exactly what he wanted to know. The amusement was bittersweet, however, due to the nature of the news. How could they have not found Curtis? Seriously? He couldn't have gotten away from that, right? Of course Brent shouldn't have gotten away either. He looked down at the blood-stained pants leg. Bleeding out was probably what should have happened to him, yet here he was.

Bleeding. Crap, his family was going to come through that hotel door any minute and he was wearing a blood-stained costume with a shark bite and more bruises than he thought were humanly possible to have on a body. He got up and opened his suitcase, wondering why he hadn't packed more clothes. 'Let's hope I don't get into another super-powered fight and ruin any more street clothes today.' He put on some jeans and a shirt and rolled up the costume, hiding it and the clothes from earlier that day in his suitcase. The bleeding from the shark bite was done but the pain was eminent and Brent was hoping he wouldn't make it too obvious. What was his cover going to be?

Ringing filled the room. His cell phone? He'd forgotten all about it! It had been in the suitcase the whole time! He picked it up and answered. "Hello?"

"Brent, holy crap man are you alright?" It was Mark.

"Yea I'm fine, what's going on?"

"Dude you were on television, well they didn't know it was you but they had some home made footage of the fight and holy cow man it looked like you and that guy tore up the place. Then the aquarium thing hit and you haven't been picking up and you parents called me to see if I'd heard from you. Man, this is getting crazy."

The attack had gone national? National? Wow. Brent wasn't sure what to say. "I'm alright Mark, don't worry about it. I'll be home tomorrow, I'll come by and we'll talk. I need to rest and try to make myself look like I haven't had the ground swept with me all day before my family gets back to the room."

"Alright man, if you need anything just call."

"Okay. See you tomorrow." Brent hung up, slapping his hand against his head. National? Everyone knew about this? This was so much bigger than he could handle. He was way over his head. The phone rang again. "Hello?"

"Brent, oh my God are you alright?"

"Autumn?" Why was she calling? She was a friend but, wow he hadn't talked to her all week had he? She'd seen him at school and probably knew all the crap that had happened to him, at least the crap everyone else knew, and he hadn't seen her. She was probably flipping out slightly. "Autumn I'm fine, why?"

"I just, I knew you were going to Pigeon Forge this weekend and I know you've been through a lot this week and, and I turned on the television and all the channels were talking about the attack up there and oh my God I didn't know what to do or think and I haven't seen you all week, are you alright?"

"You already asked me that," Brent said softly. "I'm fine. I was, I was close to the attack and got a little shaken up, but I'm back in my hotel now and I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You've, you've been through a lot this week. How shaken are you? Do you need to talk?"

"No, I'm physically shaken not mentally." He paused. Stupid Brent, stupid, physically shaken is worse. That means you're hurt. "I'm not hurt bad, just bruised up a little. I was close to one of the explosions, but I'm fine. I need to go, my family hasn't made it back yet. I'll see you Monday at school."

"Oh, okay. I'm glad you're alright."

"Me too."

"See you Monday." Click. That would take some time to process, Autumn never really called Brent. She was right though, it'd been a crazy week. Maybe he should be mentally scarred, maybe the fact that so far he was holding it together pretty well was weird. It didn't matter, he needed to concentrate on his cover story.

"Brent?" Busted. Too late now to make it up. Brent looked up to see his mom coming through the door, followed by his sister and father. "Brent, are you alright? We couldn't get back sooner, they have the roads shut down and we were on the other side of town when the attack happened, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Brent said softly. He didn't know how to react. Should he run and embrace her? He had almost died twice that day. Should he tell them what's going on? No, it wouldn't go well. They couldn't know. So much was going through his head.

"Oh my gosh, Brent you look beat up, what happened? Were you around when it happened?" She came across the room to him and put her hands on either side of his head, leaning in to take a good look. "Brent, why are you all bruised? And look, the side of your face is swollen. Brent, what happened?"

"I was near the attack, was uh, was next to one of the buildings."

"We tried calling you so many times, why wouldn't you answer?"

"My phone was in the suitcase. I never took it out till now, when I finally got back." He looked down at it to see a number of missed calls. Great.

She hugged him. "I'm so glad you're alright, we were so worried."

"Me too," he mumbled.

...

The one time the weather man gets it right is when he calls for snow and Brent doesn't need it to snow. What was the deal with that? Why couldn't it snow at his house during the week so he didn't have to go to school? Why did it have to snow while he was on vacation? The better question was why did his dad insist on trying to drive over the mountain in a car, not a truck or SUV but a CAR, despite the snow and ice? "I grew up in the mountains" he said. "I drove in this all the time, just have to take it slow." It's a freaking frozen mountain! Brent wasn't liking the idea at all, but what could he do? Refuse to go? That would go over well. He only hoped his father knew what he was doing.

"Half way up the mountain," his father said while looking in the rear view mirror at Brent. "What were you worried about?"

"I don't know dad, maybe falling off the side of the mountain and dying?" Brent sighed. He hated when his dad messed with him like this. It was nothing short of annoying. He looked over at his sister; already asleep. She had no worry in the world, buckled down in her car seat. So young, so naïve.

The feeling. No, not now. The feeling was washing over Brent like a hurricane. It was too intense, too crazy. Not now please?

The first thing Brent noticed while looking out the windows sporadically was a flash of light. It came from around the corner of the next sharp curve in a spot where the road was actually going down instead of up. Brent instantly put two and two together and realized it wasn't going to end well. The flash of light was followed by a loud roar milliseconds later, which everyone had to have noticed. The car rounded the curve and to Brent's horror but expectation the road had been blown away. His dad hit the brakes, softly at that, but the car was not going to slow down in time. In a last ditch effort Brent's dad locked the brakes down, but the wheels slid on the ice as Brent had expected them to if his dad tried that option. Brent knew at that moment they were going down.

The car slid off the caved in road. It just so happened the spot was next to a very steep side of the mountain with very few trees. Brent looked out the passenger rear window in horror as the car tilted and the scene below them became apparent; they were going to slide and roll and fall down the mountain and there wasn't a whole lot of chance that a tree was going to stop them.

He was powerless to stop it. He could feel the anger rushing over him as the car tossed and bounced and turned down the mountain, all in glorious slow motion so Brent wouldn't miss a beat. The windows were cracking, shattering, glass was everywhere, yells and screams from his family were piercing the air. What had be brought upon them? After what seemed like ages the car abruptly stopped.

What happened? Brent's ears had started ringing to the point that the screams were not present, but once the car stopped it seemed like silence overtook them. He looked over at his sister. She was still buckled up in her car seat, unconscious but breathing. His mom groaned a little, but was out too. His dad was the one he really didn't like the condition of when he pulled off the seat belt and leaned up to look. There was a nasty gash on his forehead along with already-forming bruises littering his face and arms. This wasn't good at all.

Brent took in the position of the car. It had stopped against a large tree. The car was practically on the side against the tree, overlooking a cliff. The driver's side was facing down. Had it not been for their seatbelts they all could have easily fallen out of the windows when the car came to a rough rest against the tree and fell to their death. They had to get out of there.

With relatively no effort Brent kicked his door out and watched as it fell to the bottom of the mountain. Wow, it was a straight shot down. Not good. He climbed out and over the car, wanting to get to the passenger's side where he could get his sister and mom out. They needed to be clear of the scene in case Brent had to pull the car into pieces to get his dad out, no one takes that much of a beating and comes out of a car easily. He pulled the doors off and pulled his sister's car seat out of the car, breaking the seatbelt that had held it into place. It was funny how it could survive a wreck but not the wrath of Brent. With a sigh he ripped his mom's seatbelt apart and gently pulled her from her seat. Placing both of them on a relatively flat spot just above the cars location he suddenly realized he'd been in the wreck too. He looked down at himself, wondering how much damage it had done to him. Could he even tell after the day before's incidents? He was sore, but it was hard to tell if any of it was new pain. No time to really check, he needed to get his dad out of the car.

He walked back over to the car and looked in, wondering how he should go about it. His thoughts were broken, however, but a strange sound. Was the car slipping? A grinding sound was coming from the tree. As soon as Brent looked up at it the car slid to one side and came off the tree. 'I knew I should have just drug the whole car,' he thought as he jumped after it. "Dad!"

How could he have been so stupid? What was he going to do? With only one idea in his mind that could work he grabbed onto the frame of the car below the engine then reached out to the side of the cliff. "This has to work," he thought as he started to grad the rocks that made up the infinitely tall mountain next to him. His hand drug down them painfully as he tried to slow his descent, causing a great deal of pain to shoot through the hand.

"Gah!" he screamed as he dug his fingers into the rock, knocking chunks out as he fell. The fast that he had to penetrate the ice layers to get to the rock was not helping the situation. As his grip took hold the weight of the car started to hit him. If it worked it was going to hurt. A lot. Regardless he had to try, had to save his dad. He dug in all the more, seeing the ground below quickly gaining on him. He was, however, slowing rapidly. "Come on! Come on!" It was the last moment, the ground was right there and the speed was still faster than he wanted. "No!"

In one last push of strength and effort Brent pulled the car up, getting it over his head as he screamed in pain. The ground was right there. Right there. Oh no. He felt the impact and bent his knees, trying to juggle between the pain and the need to stop from slamming down into the ground with a car over his head. His knees bent, his legs folded, and right at the end of their capacity to tuck under him Brent brought the descent to a halt. He'd done it. He was standing, or rather kneeling, on the ground. The car was…. above his head! With a scream of not pain but exhaustion Brent slowly sat the vehicle down. That was what he got for not just moving it in the first place. At least his dad was safe.

"Wow, I'm impressed." Brent looked up to see Curtis floating just above him with his hand crossed over his shoulders. "I didn't think you'd make it, but I'm kind of glad you did. I wanted to directly finish you off myself."


	13. Long Falls

Brent's family was unconscious. Unconscious. Curtis was now hovering over him after having caused his family to be unconscious. To say the least Brent was not pleased with the current turn of events.

"Curtis," Brent mumbled as he raised his arm and gave him a "wait a minute" gesture with his pointer finger. "I'm going to sit down right here." Brent collapsed down into the snow. "I'm gonna rest here for, like, twenty hours and then, THEN we can do this. But frankly Curtis, I don't feel like going at it with you right now. I went at it with you all day yesterday. We had two dates Curtis, two dates in one day. Now you want another? Maybe I'm not into this relationship as much as you are, but I'm tired and worn out and I just think we should see other people because this isn't working so far."

Humor aside, Brent was in a lot of pain. His head was still spinning from trying to figure out how he caught the car and the side of the mountain without ripping himself in half, much less lifting the car over his head with one hand and stopping it and him from coming to a squishy end at the bottom of the cliff. Now Mr. Biohazard wanted to fight again? Was trashing half of Pigeon Forge and the Ripley's Aquarium not enough?

"I'm going to kill you!" Curtis roared in anger. He obviously was not in the mood for jokes, was he?

"Thanks for the warning," Brent said with a smile as he shot off webbing into Curtis' face. Brent sprung from the ground at Curtis, tackling him just as he fried the webbing from his eyes. "You know Curtis, attacking me is one thing. I can handle that. I mean, I beat the snot out of you every time right? But you attacking my family? Curtis, I have no clue how you figured out where we were or what we were driving but I don't care because this time I'm not holding back anymore."

"Cute," Curtis mumbled. He may have been pinned to the ground, but that wasn't going to stop him. Before Brent had a chance to react a beam of radiation erupted from Curtis' chest and sent Brent flying through the cold air. The blow was a stun for Brent and had quite a sting to it, but it wasn't the most devastating he'd received. The snow broke his fall ever so slightly, but the reality of hitting the ground was still a very intimate process.

'Crap,' Brent thought. 'I have to get this away from the car and dad.' He leapt up from the ground and took off towards the cliff.

"You're not running now are you Brenty?" Curtis was trailing him, which is what Brent wanted.

"Somebody help he's stalking me!" Brent yelled as he jumped onto the cliff he'd so desperately wished he hadn't been drug down and started up it again. He really wished he could get his dad out of the car, but that wasn't reasonable, not then. He needed to take Curtis out and he knew he couldn't let the fight linger for too long. Too long would just mean Brent would eventually break in his poor physical condition and that wasn't going to work.

As fast as his beaten and battered limbs would take him Brent ascended the cliff, dodging shots here and there thrown his way by Curtis. His saving grace hand, the one that was drug thousands of feet down a mountain side, was throbbing beyond belief. Brent didn't check it, but he didn't need to check it to know that he was missing quite a bit of skin from his palm and fingers, a small price to pay for his father's life but not a price he factored in having to deal with on top of Curtis. Each shot that guy made came closer to impacting into Brent's back, or head, or one of his arms or legs. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, the shots ceased.

"Giving up so easily?" Brent asked loudly as he stopped and turned back.

"No, just a priority change," Curtis called to him. Brent was so stupid, he'd realized his own plan was backfiring. He hadn't taken Curtis away from his father at all, but had actually put distance between himself and Curtis, who was now practically alone a couple hundred feet down with him. Curtis was aiming his hands at the car.

"No!" Brent cried out as he launched himself off the cliff as hard as he could, putting every little bit of energy he had into his launching. He had a huge gap to cover and not enough time to do it, but not trying wasn't an option.

"Predictable," Curtis mumbled as he shifted his aim to the now helpless, free-flying Brent. Before Brent could take a breath he was flying into, being stopped by, and being redirected by a massive beam of green death. The pain was nonexistent, Brent was thrown off guard so badly that before he realized what happened he was already smacking into the cliff and out cold.

As Brent's body started sliding down out of the rocky mountainside it'd been lodged into Curtis caught it on his shoulder and started towing it up into the air. As he reached the mountain tops he decided to keep going, thinking as long as he was in the air with Brent he had the advantage. He also thought it would be entertaining to drop Brent from really far up and follow him down to watch him splatter, and this presented the perfect opportunity.

"Brent, I'm almost sad you won't be awake when I kill you, but this will have to do. Besides, it's easier this way." As Curtis climbed to the peak height of his comfort level he stopped, readying his victim. "If this drop doesn't kill you I give up." With that he let Brent's body go.

Brent could hear the words drop, kill, and give come out of Curtis' mouth. His consciousness was slowly coming around. Somehow his body hadn't given in yet, it was still fighting past all the pain and exhaustion and dizziness. Brent's vision started coming back as he felt the free fall hit his gut and he could see Curtis just above him floating with a smile of satisfaction. Was this seriously how Curtis thought he could take care of him? Brent pulled himself together the best he could, pushed his mental state to its thin edge, and got enough control over himself to aim and fire a very precise web line onto Curtis' foot.

Curtis' face changed rather quickly to surprise, and taking advantage of this surprise Brent pulled the line to bring Curtis in close. With a solid grip planting itself on Curtis' upper arm Brent pulled his other fist back. "Sorry" was all that Brent could muster to say. His fist came forward in a flash, contacting onto Curtis' jaw. The intent was actually to bust Curtis' nose and give him a permanent reminder not to mess with him anymore, but a completely unseated jaw would work too. When in and out of consciousness aim isn't the highest priority after all.

Curtis was out cold from the punch, probably not from the punch itself but the pain associated. As Brent struggled to grasp his conscious mind he quickly realized he was still descending upon the mountains and forest below. His awakening process was very gradual, first he realized the urgency of the situation, then he realized the impossibility of the situation, then he slowly regained the ability to think about how he could survive this, then of course the pain from his past thirty six hour experience smacked his nerve receptors like a speeding train. The presence of Curtis in his grip also passed through his thoughts. He had to save him, didn't he? He couldn't just let him drop, let him die. Sure he'd killed plenty of people and almost done Brent's family in, but Brent could not serve up judgment on him could he? He of course had every right to, but it wouldn't have been the right thing to do. He had to try to save both their lives.

Wincing at the idea he'd obtained and the pain he knew it would bring Brent pulled Curtis tight to his body. The closeness was definitely uncomfortable, and highly unfavorable, but Brent had to make sure his grip on Curtis would be unbreakable. As they reentered the forest canopy Brent aimed himself towards a tree top. Reaching out with his free hand Brent grabbed the top of the tree, holding on for dear life. The tree bent under the force and weight, but soon began to crack near the top. Brent sighed, not even paying attention to the pain anymore. Maybe he was becoming immune, or maybe he was at the point that adrenaline had completely disabled his ability to feel any pain, but he was suddenly less worried about his bodily condition and more worried about not being able to stop the fall.

Reaching out hoping he'd grab something, anything, Brent found a branch. The branch had a little give, but fell to the same snapping fate as the treetop just had. "Crap." Brent kept grabbing branches, feeling them snap under the force, and repeating the process. He felt like he was being drug down the mountain side all over again, though this time he was missing the extra ton. Finally he decided to ditch the grabbing efforts and fired a web line straight up.

The webbing hit somewhere above them, though Brent didn't bother to check; the more pressing view was the ground fast approaching. The line began to bend, along with the tree, however this time the give was much much more. The webbing had a lot of elasticity to it, that was for sure. The descent was finally halted a couple feet above ground, but the elasticity snapped them back with some force. Brent decided to let go as they approached the top of the ascent and grabbed hold to another branch. Finally at last he was safe, as was Curtis. Brent could hear a helicopter approaching, a sign that his government buddies had once again shown up too late. With a rush of relief overcoming Brent he secured Curtis on the branch with some webbing before collapsing against the tree trunk. He'd done it, he'd survived. He'd beaten the bad guy and, well, he didn't get the girl but he'd saved one. She was a little too far out of his age range of course, but it counted for something. The only thing Brent was really worried about was making sure his family was alright and then sleeping for a few days straight.

...

Justin stood alone in an empty warehouse, the very warehouse that had been overseeing operations to transport and destroy the Human Enhancement chemicals in Atlanta. A vehicle door opened to let in a limo, which pulled up beside Justin and positioned the rear door next to him. The door opened to reveal a red headed man dressed in a business suit. "Doctor Smith, welcome to your new lab," Justin greeted as he shook the man's hand. "I'm so glad to see you here eager to work."

"I am very eager to finish my project," Smith replied.

"If you'll follow me this way, we have everything you'll need in the back." Justin directed him to a small singular door behind them. He opened the door with a card key which he then handed to Smith and held the door for him. "We brought your encrypted server here, along with all the listed materials in your last report. I have also assigned you twenty lab assistants and a few guards for placement in checkpoints in the building you deem necessary. If you have need for anything else just let me know."

"Thank you sir," Smith said with a smirk. After a moment he spoke again. "So how did a man who works on the field side of things get put in charge of the dirty lab side of things?"

Justin smiled. "I guess they recognized my understanding of the dangers of the field and willingness to take the risks required to find the breakthroughs needed to drive this project forward, not terminate it when we're so close. I look forward to hearing about your one oh one serum, especially if it can yield the hearing increase percentages you are calculating it will."

"Oh, sir, trust me when I say this; when this is finished it will blow away everything known to science up to date."

...

Brent sighed as his nurse entered the room. "Well, you're not looking too bad for someone who just fell off the side of a cliff," she said with a smile. "How do you feel?"

"Obviously not as good as I look," he mused. "How is my family?"

"Your sister and mother suffered minor concussions, your father has a few broken bones and a major concussion but is stable and will be fine."

Brent smiled. "Thank you." The nurse had been especially nice to him since he'd gotten there and had kept him up to date on his family's status despite their being in another wing of the hospital. He couldn't believe the FBI was actually able to cover the whole fight up and swing it so it seemed like Brent had experienced the car wreck to his father's extent. Of course they disappeared and didn't stick around for a game of twenty questions, but at the time Brent was just happy he and his family were alright. There would be another time for that. Until then Brent had decided he was just going to do what he'd just been taught; use his gift, his curse, the best he could.


End file.
